


Converted

by Kouji757



Series: Converted [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Cannibalism, Eye mutilation, Hypnotism, Kidnapping, M/M, Mind Control, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Multi, Restraining, Supernatural - Freeform, Transformation, Unwilling Transformation, Vomit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:29:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 46,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4134093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kouji757/pseuds/Kouji757
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It'd been nearly ten years since Medic had left TF Industries to retire to a quiet life of a simple general care physician.  The older he had gotten the more he had thought himself long passed his taste for danger and the need to push the boundaries of medical science...but a simple phone call was all it took to rekindle his passions. The problem with passions, however, is they're easy to manipulate, as are desires.</p><p>And the problem with THAT is desires are hard to deny oneself, especially when outside forces are tempting you to simply give in.</p><p> </p><p>AU series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Phone Call

The phonecall had come in the dead of night, rousing the German from his bed and sending him stumbling across his small apartment to locate the ringing disturbance. At first he thought it was an emergency call but the voice on the other end was neither alarmed or excited, and the aging Medic had had to ask the man to repeat himself twice before the message being relayed finally sunk in.

He hadn't gone back to bed that night, choosing to put water on to boil and spending the last hours before sunrise sitting at his small kitchen table, nursing a cup of unsweetened tea and thinking.

It had been nearly ten years since he'd seen any of his TFI teammates...ten very long, but uneventful years of living by himself and tending to a small health clinic in the mountains. It was a peaceful life, one that suited him despite him having spent decades on various battlefields over the years, and all told he was happy with his low-stress life now even if there were days when things got dull.

Then, the phonecall.

The voice on the other end of the call had introduced himself as Doctor Drake Cleward, team lead of a research facility in Montana named the Investigative Treatment and Prevention Center, and he'd had an offer of employment for Medic and an invitation to tour the facility before making his choice.

Medic's first instinct had been to refuse - he liked it here in his quiet mountainside home, tending to broken bones and flu bugs. It was the perfect place to retire after seemingly a lifetime of being shot at, burned, stabbed, killed and brought back time and again, and enduring the non-stop complaints of his teammates. He was done with that life, his blood lust had drained from him as he'd aged, but...

...there was something intriguing about the offer, though he couldn't put his finger on it. It had certainly piqued his curiosity when Cleward had given him a brief rundown on what they researched there - strange, unheard of diseases that were so rare that to find live specimens was considered a gift from God. Active duty no longer interested him, but research...research, yes, that was an option that had his interest, but Cleward had been decidedly vague with the details, again inviting the German out to the facility for a tour and more information.

The sun rose and Medic put his cup into the sink before heading in to the bathroom to shower and shave, combing his hair and noting there was more gray than ever; maybe he should just refuse and stay here, live out his remaining days in comfort.

He opened the clinic two hours earlier than normal, making it through a day of colds, health physicals, and a few patients needing stitches; when seven o'clock rolled around and he finally headed back to his little apartment, he found a thick envelope wedged into that tiny space between the door and the door frame.

Opening it, he found a plane ticket to Montana.

...well, perhaps it was worth investigating if they were going to such lengths to get his agreement. It would at least be something of a vacation, he supposed.

\-----------------------------------------------------

"As you can see, Mr. Hartmann, we are very dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge and it's preservation."

Medic nodded idly, not even batting an eye at hearing his surname (assumed surname, at any rate - he'd left quite a bit of his life before and during his time with TFI behind, including his birth name) uttered with such familiarity.

Drake Cleward was a shorter man with a bit of a gut on him, his hair even grayer than Medic's and with a matching, bushy beard. He wore thick rimmed glasses and was wide across the shoulders and chest but his legs were like two twigs jabbed into the underside of a potato. He huffed a bit as he walked and spoke, and Medic thought to himself with a touch of amusement that the man could stand to benefit from a proper diet as he eyed the man's stomach briefly.

Cleward was currently leading Medic through their facility, and he had to admit, he'd never seen such fine machinery in his life; everything here was bright, clean, sleek and smooth, high tech and advanced - it was a scientist's playground and as he listened and nodded along as Cleward spoke he found he was picturing himself working here already.

"-and through that door is where you'll be working should you decide to take us up on our offer."

Medic tore his attention away from a machine lazily spinning filled blood vials to glance at the indicated door. There was a red and white vinyl sign on it warning of the highly infectious nature of the specimens beyond it, stipulating that all staff beyond that point needed to have rebreather/filtered masks, goggles, and gloves on at all times as a minimum precaution.

"I see. Tell me, what exactly are you offering me here? What is it you wish for me to do?"

Cleward pulled a handkerchief from within the white lab coat he wore and swiped it across his forehead. "Well Mr. Hartmann, officially you would be on payroll as an advisor and observer on our latest project. There'd be next to no hands-on lab work, but you would be assisting in analyzing results from other researchers - we really need you here, Doctor."

Medic wrinkled his nose. "Only analyzing and observing? For what reason do you need me specifically?"

Cleward flagged down a young woman whose nametag identified her as an assistant within whatever the HK-943 Hazards Lab was, and sent her off to retrieve protective gear for himself and for Medic.

The goggles did not comfortably fit over his glasses but Medic had little choice but to endure the discomfort; with goggles, gloves, and the rebreather mask all snugly fitted and in place, Cleward punched in a code into a keypad to allow them access behind the vinyl sign-adorned door, leading Medic through a chilled and silent hallway to yet another door.

"Now, before we enter, I want to make one thing clear," Cleward said as he keyed in another sequence into this next keypad. "We reached out to you for a very specific reason, and what I'm about to show you is both highly confidential and may also alarm you - well, and then again maybe not, it depends on...well, you'll see, one moment here-"

This door opened into what strongly resembled a giant surgical theatre: they were at the top looking down, with various computers and machinery, along with the people who were using them, arranged in six levels that led down to the main floor.

That main floor was strange, though; it was almost painfully bright, lit with large lights hanging only twelve feet off the floor, all of them aimed inward at a large glass enclosure that took up only a fraction of the main floor's space. Clustered around it were banks of computers and heavy cables that ran from them to the enclosure; there were what looked like air circulators installed on top of the glass ceiling, their air ducts disappearing up into the darkened ceiling of the room, and inside the enclosure itself was a spartan toilet, a cot, and a plain water spigot.

"...mein gott," Medic muttered when he realized there was also a single person inside that glass enclosure, and that he KNEW that person.

Sniper, aka "Mundy" was currently sitting in the floor beside the cot, knees pulled to his chest and his head bowed, to all the world looking like he was trying to make himself disappear into the floor.

The harsh lighting above him glinted on his skin - the man was sweating profusely, Medic could tell even from this distance - and he appeared to be rocking back and forth gently.

Cleward adjusted his glasses and goggles, his voice muffled through the mask. "That is our current subject - records show he was once your coworker. We're hoping you could assist us in unraveling the mystery of what afflicts him."


	2. Chapter 2

A quick trip back home to pack those belongings he couldn't stand to leave behind, and of course he had to close his clinic - cancel all the appointments, end his lease, handle the business of medical record storage and handing the key to the building back to the man he'd rented it from - and then, another plane trip back to Montana that was full of uneasy thoughts and a morbid curiosity of what he'd just agreed to.

Medic couldn't quite put words to how unnerving it had been to see Sniper in such a state; in all the years he'd known the man Sniper had been the least likely to show any hint of distress, pain, or injury...and in fact, Medic could clearly remember multiple instances of either other members of the team or Medic himself all but dragging the stubborn Australian into the infirmary to be treated for various maladies and wounds. More than once Medic had laid into the man about his idiotic pride and how it would one day get him killed, and to contrast those memories with the huddled, sweating, and obviously ill man he'd seen...

\-------------------------------------------

"Here we are - the cafeteria on this level is tiny but there are only twenty other staff that are here 'round the clock," Cleward was saying as he slipped a key into the deadbolt.

The door opened soundlessly and the portly scientist flipped on a light switch to reveal the entryway of the little apartment; the area immediately within the door had only a coat rack sitting within it, but just seven feet beyond that the room opened up a bit into a little sitting area with a loveseat and an armchair. A small end table stood between the chair and loveseat with a lamp perched on it, and there was a TV set against the wall in front of the furniture.

A narrow hallway to the right of the sitting area led to the bedroom and a bathroom, with a little linen closet being the only other thing within the apartment. Medic thought back to the comfortable apartment and belongings he'd given up and felt a moment of doubt coupled with displeasure at such a small, cramped space, but...well, he'd made this choice, he would have to live with it.

"It's not much, but you'll find you won't be in here all that often once we get going. I'll show you to your office space either tomorrow or the next day."

Medic made a noise of acknowledgement and moved to carry his suitcase to the bedroom. "What exactly will my duties be?"

"For now? I'll see that you're given all pertinent files on our...uh..."subject," so you can familiarize yourself with what's been done so far. We'd like any insight on what this man was like before he fell ill - habits, personality, that sort of thing - and in the near future we're hoping you can actively assist us in testing and care-taking...God knows we need the help."

Medic paused in unpacking his suitcase, leaving it to remain sitting open on his bed as he moved to the bedroom door to peer down the hallway at Cleward. "I find myself uncertain what you mean by that."

Cleward shoved his glasses up his nose, sniffing. "Ah, well - he's gotten belligerent, of late. Lashes out at those who go in to take his vitals and treat him...refuses to take medications, can't be trusted to give honest answers to inquiries. We need your insights on him, but to be perfectly blunt you'd be just as useful if you could just win his trust and get him to cooperate with us again."

Medic raised an eyebrow at that. Sniper could be a pain but the man had never attempted to hurt the German when he'd tended to him...

Cleward sort of waved a hand in the air, as though he were trying to conjure words from it. "It's...it's complicated, but to answer your question in a direct manner, for now your only duties are to get up to speed and of course, get acclimated to your surroundings here. Your neighbor Ellen has been instructed to assist you in getting around until you learn things yourself - she's just to your left there when you walk out your front door and will introduce herself when she gets a chance."

Again Medic simply made a noise of acknowledgement, and after a moment's pause Cleward spun on a heel and moved for the door.

"I'll leave you to get settled in - meals are typically served at nine, noon, and seven, with smaller items available between seven in the morning and ten at night. Your access cards will be delivered in the morning along with the files we'd like you to read up on, and...unless you are needing anything else, I'll be off for the night."

"No, thank you, I believe I can manage," Medic replied. He wasn't particularly hungry or tired but likely would be heading to bed soon anyway just to get the day over with.

Cleward nodded and shuffled from the room; Medic waited a few moments before heading to lock the door, then returned to the bedroom unpack his suitcase and undress for bed. As he stretched out only a short while later he could at least admit the bed was comfortable, though he questioned how much sleeping he would be doing in it as again the uneasy thoughts and feelings crept back in.

\-----------------------------------------------------

The following morning there were a few brisk knocks on his door and by the time Medic made it out of his bedroom to open it he found the hallway empty save for a heavy metal box left on his doorstep; he brought it inside and carefully popped the latches on it to find it full of the promised files as well as a sealed plastic bag that had the mentioned access cards within it.

The cards lacked his picture and really only had a few bar codes, long lines of numbers, and his name printed on them. He had to allow himself a bit of a smile as he looked over his name: Peter Hartmann, spelled out in bold black letters that were slightly raised on the plastic surface of the card. It was the name he'd assumed when he'd left TFI, and it was his name as much as the shirt he wore was his shirt...and it felt about as important. Honestly he missed those days of simply being referred to as "Medic" or "Doctor" and knowing that that is exactly what Sniper would call him (providing he was sound of mind enough to even remember him) brought a bit of cheer to his mood. Medic might be beyond his battlefield days but the memories were a comfort.

Over the course of two days he read through the files, leaving his room only to seek a meal (and doing so at odd hours to avoid as many people as possible). It was definitely an educational read...

It would seem that seven months ago Sniper (referred to in the documents by L. Mundy, for some reason - Medic was left wandering what the "L" stood for) was involved in some sort of unspecified motor vehicle accident and admitted to a hospital's ICU. Despite the severity of his injuries he'd made nearly a full recovery within a week, and in addition to suddenly having a whole, healthy body again there were marked observations of other...strangeness: psychotic episodes where he hardly knew where, who, or even what he was; sudden high fevers that disappeared within hours; excessive sweating at times when body temperatures remained constant; dental and abdominal pain that came and went at random but had no discernible source.

Then, while being moved from his room to an in-house lab for MRI testing, Sniper had attacked the nurse with him and torn the man's throat out with his teeth, collapsing and afterwards having no recollection of the attack.

Sniper had then immediately been transferred here, and had remained here ever since...and Medic was quick to note that there weren't any test records or information regarding what had been going on since Sniper had been moved here - everything had come from the hospital, and while those files were exceptionally detailed (with the exception of specifics on the motor vehicle accident that had landed Sniper in the hospital in the first place) they simply...ended, once Sniper had left their care and been entered to the Investigative Treatment and Prevention Center.

Had Cleward specifically withheld those files, and if so, why? Why ask Medic to get up to speed on everything when he didn't even provide everything?

Mid-afternoon of the third day there was a knock on the door again and he opened it to find a woman standing there. She was tall and certainly younger than he, with blonde hair that was pulled into a tight bun; much like Cleward she was clad in a white lab coat though she had hers pulled closed and buttoned, leaving it looking like the lab coat was all she had on.

She offered him a bright smile. "Good afternoon, Dr. Hartmann. I'm Ellen Easter - Ellen to most, Dr. Easter to others."

Medic nodded at her, raising an eyebrow. "Good afternoon - yes, I was told you were assigned to assist me in familiarizing myself with the facility."

"Yes, I am, and I apologize for the delay in introductions, I was rather tied up in the lab." She held out her hand and he shook it politely. "What has Dr. Cleward shown or told you so far?"

"Basics, primarily. I notice you called me 'doctor.'"

"Oh, are you not one?" she asked, blinking. 

Medic smirked a bit. Oh boy, _there_ was a question... "I am, but Dr. Cleward has yet to refer to me as such."

"Oh, THAT," Ellen muttered, rolling her eyes. "Dr. Hartmann, allow me to be the first to say that Dr. Cleward has his...quirks. Not referring to people by their hard-earned titles is one of them, unless he's referring to himself in which case all proper and pertinent titles are used...it will be grating, and no amount of gentle or firm reminders will get him to change. I've been simply 'Ellen' to him for three years."

"In that case, what shall I refer to you as?" Medic asked, chuckling some.

"Dr. Easter or Ellen will be fine, I'll answer to just about anything so long as it's not insulting. So!" she interrupted herself, clasping her hands together behind her back. "Shall I give you the actual, grand tour? Or is there somewhere you need to locate right away?"

"Actually, I would prefer to see S- to see our Mr. Mundy," Medic replied, catching himself before referring to Sniper as...well, Sniper. They'd learn eventually but right now there wasn't much reason to cause confusion.

"That can be arranged, just follow me. Did you receive your cards already?"

Medic ducked back into the apartment to retrieve his key and the cards. "I have. What are they for? The only doors that required authorization to enter used keypads."

"They're for signing out documents from our library and for entry into other less security-heavy areas."

"One would think it would be the opposite," he commented as he came back out, shutting and locking his door behind him.

Ellen shrugged. "I said pretty much the same but no one is willing to change the systems around. And on that note, here-"

She slid a hand into her pocket and pulled out a small memo pad, three inches long and two inches wide; he must have looked puzzled as she handed it to him because she gave him a sly smile. "Trust me, you'll want this - write down your access codes and keep it on you, it's small enough to be discrete and everyone carries one. It's not technically allowed but I'd like to see a man who can keep eighteen codes straight when they change every two months."

"Ah. Thank you." He slipped it into his back pocket, making a mental note to acquire an equally discrete pen to use with it.

He followed her through a maze of hallways and access points until they were just outside that familiar vinyl sign-adorned door and had to pause to don protective gear.

"Tell me," Medic asked, pausing to tug the rebreather on. "Is his ailment communicable?"

"We're not actually sure," came Ellen's response. She carefully settled her mask's strap just above her bun of hair. "We've been monitoring those he came in contact with before ending up here and they're fine, but our policy here is to be safe rather than sorry: masks, gloves, the air in his quarters is carefully sanitized, et cetera."

She keyed them through the following doors then led him down the stairs down to the main floor, then right up to the side of Sniper's glass enclosure.

This close to it gave Medic an excellent view of the glass cube's insides; there was no space within it that could be considered private - the toilet was in plain view with the water spigot next to it, a small drain underneath the faucet. The cot was bolted to the floor and had a thin sheet and a pillow laying in the floor next to it in a heap. The rest of the cube was just...open space, brightly light by the glaring lights above, with a main door on the north side of the cube that opened into what Medic assumed was a small decontamination area on the inside of the cube: step through the door, shut it behind you, then open a second door to enter the cube proper.

Medic shielded his eyes against the glare as he moved closer. "Do you ever turn the lights off?"

"They're dimmed but never off completely, not since Mr. Mundy began getting violent with anyone who steps inside."

Ah, Sniper... He was laying on the cot in a fetal position, arms over his head and his back to Medic and Ellen. Medic stepped forward to lightly rest a hand on the glass, leaning close to peer in at the man; he couldn't detect the sweating he'd seen previously so he took that as a tentative good sign. Sniper was clad only in white cotton boxers that looked clean from here, so there was also the hope that the man was given access to bathing facilities.

"Dr. Cleward did not include any of the most recent files for Mundy in the information he gave me," Medic said after a pause, still staring in at Sniper. "Why is that?"

Ellen snorted heavily. "Likely he wants to thump his chest at you and explain it all himself - that's another one of his quirks, you see - he likes to be in charge of every little thing. That man has an ego the size of the moon..."

As they spoke Sniper stirred on his cot, slowly uncurling and then sitting up; he looked dazed when he turned and caught sight of Medic, but within moments his eyes lit up with recognition and he was staggering toward the glass wall, falling against it and using it to keep himself upright.

Medic looked him up and down; again his boxers looked clean, but Sniper had lost the slight pooch he'd always had to his stomach...in fact, this was the fittest he'd ever seen the man, though the other's hands had taken on a more skeletal appearance, the knuckles seeming strangely large; those hands were shaking as Sniper reached out for the wall.

"Medic? Doc...? S'that...really you?"

Sniper's voice was nearly inaudible through the glass but this close Medic could read his lips; the man wore a look of terrified hope and disbelief, and he left a smear of sweat as his hand slipped down the glass. Medic swept his gaze down the man's legs, relieved to see no sign of atrophy in the muscles and that the toenails showed no signs of sickness.

"Hello, herr Mundy," Medic said after a pause, lifting his gaze from Sniper's feet to make eye contact with him. "It is me."

"God...God, Medic..." Sniper's chest heaved.

Medic made a placating gesture with his hands. "Calm, my friend - do not work yourself into a frenzy. I was told you were ill and was brought to help you."

At that Sniper slammed both fists into the glass, once, twice, three times; Medic jumped and jerked back instinctively, and almost didn't catch Sniper's words.

"Get me out of here Doc! You have to get me out of here! They're killing me!"

"Calm down, calm down," Medic repeated, glancing over a shoulder at Ellen. She was observing quietly, her expression neutral. "Calm down, I'm here to help you."

Sniper panted heavily, tears welling up in his eyes, then he began to sink slowly to the floor, shoulders hunching and hands sliding down the glass wall leaving streaks behind. After a pause Medic dropped down to stay level with him, grunting as old knees protested the movement.

"You have to help me, Doc," Sniper went on after a moment, lifting his head enough to again lock gazes with him. "You have to...I'm going to die, you have to get me out of here."

Medic opened his mouth to reply, then paused; Sniper's pupils seemed to be widening, engulfing the entire eye - impossibly wide, dark, and deep, and he wasn't blinking as he held Medic's gaze.

"You have to get me out of here, Doctor." Sniper's lips were moving and somehow Medic heard or saw it, but the man's intense look and strange pupils had his full attention.

_Do not tell anyone what you see. Help me._

And then Medic blinked, and saw...well, Sniper's eyes were wide but the pupils normal, and he watched as Sniper squeezed his eyes shut, a few tears running down his cheek. His expression was so defeated that Medic felt uncomfortable; this was not the Sniper he knew and had worked with.

Medic had to use the wall in much the same manner as Sniper, to push himself upright with his knees protesting and popping as he did so. Sniper certainly needed his help, yes...

The image of Sniper's black eyes swam in front of his vision for a moment. Do not tell anyone what he'd just seen-

"Are you all right, Dr. Hartmann?"

Medic blinked again and straightened, turning to face Ellen; again his mouth opened to speak but it was hard to find words-

Do not tell anyone-

Ellen smiled sadly at him after several moments of Medic unable to speak. "I get it...I'm told he was a friend of yours, right? Must be hard to see him like this."

Medic nodded and finally found his voice. "Yes... The files, for him...?"

"Let's head back to the cafeteria, it's nearing dinner time and I'll show you a few other places of interest along the way. Cleward's probably going to find some reason to complain about me bringing you here even though he said I could..."

Medic wordlessly moved to follow Ellen back up to the top level of the room, then back out through the hallways to where they could safely remove their gear, then he silently followed in her wake as she showed him where the research library was along with other fairly unimportant areas like a lounge with movies and newspapers available and a small workout room for employee use.

"Would you care for some company for dinner? After seeing that, I mean..."

"No." He paused, then added a smile and a "no thank you" to it. Ellen bid him a good night and headed for the cafeteria, adding that if he needed anything he only had to knock on her door.

Medic went into his apartment and settled into the armchair, staring at the TV set but not turning it on, going over his brief moment in Sniper's company.

'Help me' and 'they're killing me.'

Suddenly Cleward not giving him all of Sniper's information seemed...suspect.

_Do not tell anyone what you see. Help me._

Those eyes in his mind again...yes, Sniper, he would help him. And he'd start by asking Cleward for answers in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, and the five mornings following it had Medic quietly observing from outside the little glass prison, fuming and frustrated, as he watched Cleward and his cronies "assessing" and treating Sniper.

The Australian was visibly agitated at the beginning of each treatment, and rightfully so - he was poked, prodded, blood was drawn, vitals taken, pills and syringes forced on him. It seemed less like Cleward was interested in curing Sniper and more like he was treating the poor man like a science project (and not even a proper one, as Medic could see little rhyme or reason for half the things he was observing).

On top of everything Cleward also had yet to produce the files detailing everything that had been done to Sniper up to this point, and the portly little man tended to get a bit testy each time Medic asked for them; Sniper's words from the other day, about how they were killing him, were starting to sound less like a frightened man's accusations and more like actual truth.

"Still holding up over there?"

Medic glanced to the side; Dr. Easter had taken it upon herself to remain close during those times Medic was observing and he hadn't yet decided if it was flattering or irritating. "I am fine, thank you, though I would like a chance to speak to Mr. Mundy in private - I cannot properly assess his mental condition if I'm not permitted to actually be in his presence without a glass wall between us."

Ellen shrugged. "That's not up to me, unfortunately...I really wish it was. I actually wish a lot more were up to me and not to Dr. Cleward. If I didn't know any better, these last couple of days would be enough to convince me that Cleward seems to have forgotten that that's an ill man in there, not some animal for medical testing."

"Has he always treated S- Mundy like this?"

"Not...always, no," Ellen said after a pause. "His compassion has taken a few hits the more unruly Mr. Mundy has gotten."

"And when did he begin showing violent behavior?"

"It's been...for awhile now. I can't give you an exact date since this technically isn't where I'm assigned - I'm here to help you acclimate and will be sent back to my own lab whenever Cleward decides he's tired of me hanging around," she snorted. "All I really know is, at some point not too long ago Mr. Mundy there suffered a pretty severe fever, blamed it on the medication Cleward forced on him, and began fighting back against anyone who goes in there."

Medic nodded at that solemnly; Sniper had indeed tried to keep Cleward and the two orderlies who'd entered with him away, not being dangerously violent but certainly trying to keep distance between himself and the three, primarily swatting at them and swinging half-hearted, weak punches in their direction. They had responded with syringes full of sedatives until the Australian had been reduced to a sweating, shivering, senseless heap in the floor; they'd deposited him on his cot and had gone about their business and Medic had found himself grinding his teeth together at the sight.

_Help me._

"Excuse me," Medic said quietly, stepping around Ellen and moving for the enclosure entrance as, at last, Cleward and his orderlies were making their way out.

"Dr. Cleward. If I am to do what you brought me here for, I need to speak to Mundy," Medic all but growled, staring the man down as he locked the enclosure's door behind him.

"What? Oh, right, right- well, as you might have noticed he's a bit indisposed right now, but when he's back to his senses and if he's willing for some company-"

"You didn't have to give him so much," Ellen interrupted, stepping up behind Medic. "Are you trying to kill him?"

Cleward reached up to adjust the strap of his goggles, shaking his head. "Ellen, Ellen, we both know better than that. Why are you here anyway?"

Rolling his eyes, Medic threw up his hands as the two began to quietly and politely argue; he moved away and back to where he'd been standing only moments before, staring in at where Sniper lay unconscious on his cot, one arm dangling over the side and decorated with needle marks and bruises from today's administrations.

_Help me. Help me._

Large dark eyes...he needed to get in there, speak to Mundy and find out what was truly going on. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

"I don't know what they've told you..."

Medic leaned back in the rickety metal chair they'd given him, pulling up one leg to rest that ankle on his other knee before propping his elbows up on his leg; Sniper sat up on his cot, rubbing one arm and looking everywhere but at Medic, his voice subdued.

"I wasn't like this...I wasn't sick, I was normal, fine-"

Sniper abruptly went quiet and Medic waited, letting the silence stretch between them before pressing his fingertips together and lightly bouncing his pointer fingers against his chin. "I have been given minimal information on what has happened to you, my friend. How did you come to be here?"

Sniper snorted loudly, his face twisting like he'd swallowed something distasteful. "I don't know, that's the problem. This all started with a bloody car wreck...was driving the highway, oncoming car blew a tire and swerved into my lane. I tried to get out of its way and didn't manage it, got two broken legs and a couple cracked ribs for my efforts...but I was alive, I crawled out of my camper and ended up laying on the road for a day before anyone else came by. Got thrown in the back of an ambulance, spent a few days in the hospital. I was fine," he added sharply, looking up at him. "Only thing wrong with me was the ribs and the legs, I wasn't crazy, I wasn't sick. I was FINE."

"...and then?" Medic prompted softly, after another long pause.

Sniper shrugged and went back to staring around the enclosure. "And then they gave me some kind of pill - for my pain, they said - and then I just...I woke up in this damn box, people staring in at me like I'm some sort of bloody crazed animal. No explanations other than being told I'm sick, I need help, stop struggling, behave..."

That certainly did not match the story in the files he'd been given, not at all...

"You didn't attack a nurse?" Medic asked.

"Of course not!" Sniper snapped. "I didn't attack a goddamn soul until they started shoving needles in me and forcing drugs down my damned throat! I don't know what they might have bloody told you but I'm not some crazed sicko, I wasn't sick or, or...I'm not sick, THEY did this to me!"

Medic held up his hands in a placating gesture, giving Sniper a moment to compose himself again. "The files I was given detailed how you attacked a nurse, ripped his throat out with your teeth."

"That's a lie!" Sniper snarled, moving as though he was about to stand up but grimacing an instant later and pressing the heel of a palm to his temple. "I didn't- I haven't attacked- with my teeth? What do they think I am?"

Medic tensed slightly when Sniper raised his hand, then found himself leaning forward and readying himself to move as Sniper swayed slightly where he sat, his eyes unfocusing briefly before he simply squeezed them shut.

"Sniper?"

"Don't...don't feel so good, suddenly..." Sniper muttered, now pressing both hands to his temples.

Medic was up and moving in an instant, taking the man gently by the shoulders and laying him down on the cot; Sniper's hands were shaking and he was beginning to sweat again, his breathing increasing in speed yet becoming shallower, and even through the sterile gloves Medic wore he could tell the man's body temperature was beginning to rise.

"Lay still, I will-"

Medic stopped mid-sentence, brow furrowing, as Sniper's eyes opened and his pupils widened to encompass the entire eye; unconsciously Medic leaned forward, attention riveted on Sniper's eyes, and Sniper smiled.

_Cleward is useless, you could cure me. This is a matter of pride, Doctor - you're better than him._

Well yes, of course he could cure Sniper. Why was that even a question? Medic found himself returning Sniper's smile, and gently brushed a hand through the other's sweaty hair.

_We'll have to escape though - just you and me, Medic. Like old times...we'll both be free and you can cure me._

That would take some doing but was potentially feasible...it was clear Sniper was in danger here and that Cleward was not the jovial man he painted himself to be - he clearly had no intentions of helping Sniper, and it didn't help the doctor's case that he wasn't being forthcoming with the files Medic had been promised. Cleward was hiding something...

In the back of his mind he heard Sniper's soft laughter and had the strange sensation of a presence behind him, but could not turn to look, couldn't look away from Sniper's eyes; the longer he kept staring the wider they seemed, the louder the laughter in his head, and the clearer he heard Sniper's voice even as a sort of unfocused feeling pressed in around his thoughts, carefully pushing them aside until he was left with a blank but soothing emptiness.

_Be careful Medic, we'll have to be careful to get out of here...but do what you have to. You have to get me out of here before they kill me._

"I'm going to get you out of here," Medic whispered, still stroking a hand through Sniper's hair. "I will help you, I promise you that."

_Good Doctor. I'll be waiting._

"Good doctor..."

With a sharp little intake of breath Medic straightened; Sniper's eyes drooped closed and his head turned to one side, his breathing evening out but still seeming too shallow.

Medic quickly moved for the door, growing more irritated by the second at the time it took for those outside the enclosure to open it to let him out but ultimately thankful as that tiny delay let him find his voice through the strange haze that gripped him. "Quickly, he is feverish again."

He stepped out of their way as aides stepped in to see to Sniper and his fever; when it was clear he was not particularly needed Medic numbly navigated his way back to his apartment and once inside settled onto the edge of his bed, staring at the wall.

How could he escape with Sniper? The question seemed impossible to answer, especially as that emptiness of thought pressed in at the edges of his mind again.

He would have to be careful...yes, very careful. This facility had ample security measures to prevent unwanted access from the outside, but those measures just as easily would keep things inside as well.

He would have to be careful...then it would be just himself and Sniper, just like old times in the infirmary. Without Cleward around Medic could easily cure whatever ailed the Australian - Sniper was trusting him, counting on him to help. How long could Sniper wait? How much longer could he endure remaining here?

Medic had to...had to get him out...and quickly.

At some point he had laid back on his bed, blinking to find himself staring at the ceiling and not quite aware of how or when he had shifted to this position. That emptiness was less insistent but it was...comforting, in a way. 

Medic let his eyes slip closed, feeling his body relax into the bed. He would sleep on this problem...he was a good doctor, he would figure this out.


	4. Chapter 4

When he wasn't in the glass cube speaking to Sniper, Medic found himself wandering the halls of the facility, studying its layout and asking questions that seemed innocent enough when taken at face value - he was trying to get accustomed to navigating this place, after all...or so he claimed, with an appropriate amount of feigned sheepishness, when he was asked about his presence.

To her credit Ellen was still more than willing to show him around and he took advantage of that as often as he dared or could, as Cleward had "gently" reminded her that she had her own work waiting for her inside her lab which greatly reduced the time she was available to speak with Medic. As it was their little conversations usually took place over a quick meal in the cafeteria in the late afternoons, with Ellen carefully scribbling out tiny maps for him in the little notebook she'd given him; all in all she seemed pleased with his company and didn't mind answering any questions he had. She was a very good resource and he'd learned a great many things he wasn't certain he would have been told otherwise.

The sobering downside to his expanding knowledge of the place was he wasn't really seeing any way he could hope to sneak out with Sniper in tow. He had to be careful in their escape attempt but the more he studied and asked (and because he had to be subtle and innocent-seeming about it) the fewer options he was beginning to see.

As he was puzzling over the problem of escape, Medic was also purposely feeling out Cleward; Ellen had hit the nail on the head about him: he presented himself as one thing but ultimately was something else entirely. Medic had decided to stop asking for the files and it only took a handful of days for Cleward, seemingly pleased with the cessation of requests, to begin dropping hints and little tidbits about Sniper. 

It wasn't anything comprehensive, not by a long shot - general descriptions of medications, mainly (this pill to curb hallucinations, an injection to straighten out a chemical imbalance, so on and so forth) and when Medic simply took him at his word rather than ask questions he found Cleward was more friendly, and more willing to get a bit in-depth.

Two weeks went by quickly, Medic spending several hours a day in with Sniper. There was already a marked difference in the man's demeanor and Medic was beginning to see a hint of the man he'd once been, back when they had all parted ways ten years ago.

Cleward was seeing it too, and as a result was starting to give Medic little tasks here and there, relying on the German to coax Sniper to take medication, or to be calm when his vitals were being taken or blood being drawn. The first time Medic had gently asked Sniper to "behave" the man had given him such a betrayed look that he felt immediately dirty afterward, dirty and dishonest. 

'If they trust you as they trust me,' Medic had been quick to clarify when they were alone, 'it may make escape easier.' Sniper had seemed mollified at that logic but still shot the doctor ugly looks each time Medic convinced him to let Cleward's assistants do anything.

Those ugly looks were at least only directed at him when there were others around. When it was just the two of them alone Sniper's expressions were always gentler, soothing, and gave Medic the feeling of being needed, trusted...it was comforting to be here, in Sniper's presence, and feeling that he was needed again seemed to be filling an inner emptiness Medic hadn't realized he'd had, not until he'd been reunited with him.

What an idiot he'd been, thinking he'd be satisfied being a physician. Colds, scraped knees, physicals? Ha! No, it was much more satisfying to be needed...wanted, even. Sniper may not be much of a conversationalist at times but the man was expressive in more subtle, silent ways...how Medic had never noticed before he couldn't be certain, but he was quickly reaching a point where just being around the man was the highlight of his day. At night, every night, he'd fall asleep with memories of deep, dark eyes peering at him, Sniper's voice reminding him that they had to get out of here...

Those hours with Sniper and the comfort they brought relieved a bit of the stress, something he greatly needed.

Still, time was passing and Medic still wasn't any closer to a solid escape plan than he'd been the first time the thought had occurred to him. He was now familiar with where all exits were, he knew where the fleet of vehicles for staff use were housed, and he also knew which doors he had clearance to get through and which ones would set off an alarm if he tried them...but what good was that information if he couldn't use it?

\--------------------------------------------------------------

_You're taking too long, I'll die before you get me out of here. You have to think harder and plan._

"Yes, I'm...I'm sorry, I..."

Medic slowly relaxed into his chair, sighing softly as he met Sniper's eyes and that curious, soothing sensation settled in among his thoughts; the Australian's words echoed in his mind, his eyes pitch black, and Medic could feel the man's disappointment.

_Don't be sorry, be better. Be-_

Cutting through the haze came a jarring noise; Sniper jerked and broke eye contact, looking up at the ceiling as somewhere far above them red lights lit up and began blinking insistently. Medic gasped and ended up sucking saliva down his windpipe, coughing and jolting upright in his chair as an alarm began to sound.

"What is-"

"Contamination alarm," Sniper interrupted, his attention still focused on the ceiling. 

Medic coughed and cleared his throat, finally ridding himself of that feeling of something lodged in his esophagus; Sniper got his feet under him and moved toward the enclosure's sole door. As the man passed him Medic stood and moved to follow him, able to detect a flurry of activity in the dimly lit upper levels of the room - difficult to see because of the glare of the lights, but it seemed everyone else in the room was evacuating.

"How do you know?"

Sniper pressed his hands flat to the locked door. "Happened once before, mate - a filtration system somewhere threw an error, or something. One of the doctors here was 'kind' enough to explain to me why they left me in here when everyone else ran."

Medic made a face at that. "What? They did not!" That was alarming, not just because Sniper would be left behind but because HE was in here with him.

"They bloody well did. The ducts attached to my box here is in its own system, this is probably the safest place to be if something nasty gets out of a lab." Sniper turned to look at Medic, giving him an odd smile. "There's a lot of nasty things here..."

_And they don't care about me. But you do, don't you, Medic?_

Sniper's eyes flickered, going wide for a moment, and Medic nodded in agreement, feeling a stirring at the back of his mind. If this facility had infectious diseases elsewhere then yes, Sniper was correct...there WOULD be a lot of nasty things here, and it was rather sickening that they'd just leave Sniper behind - just because his air system was separate didn't mean that it couldn't fail or be contaminated either.

From the activity on the upper levels a single aide broke away and jogged down to the glass cube, approaching the door and glaring murder at Sniper when he caught sight of him standing there with Medic.

"Get back!" the man shouted through the door, angrily gesturing. "Stand away from the door!"

Sniper leaned forward, pressing his palms flat to the glass and pushing his forehead to the wall, staring at the aide. "Open the doors. The doctor will shut and lock them behind him. You don't have to worry about me...just open the doors and walk away, the doctor will take care of it."

The aide's eyes went a bit unfocused and he seemed to be...mulling Sniper's words over; to Medic's great surprise the aide unlocked the door and then turned and walked stiffly away, his expression blank and his gait unhurried.

Medic glanced to Sniper and blinked in surprise - the man's pupils were dilated to an impossible width and inside his mind stirred a spotty memory: he'd seen that before, hadn't he? He'd...wait, he'd seen that more than once, but where and when...

A feeling of confusion and unease rose in him. What had just happened? "Sniper, what are you doing?"

Sniper turned to look at Medic, his eyes normal. "Let's go, doctor - now's our chance."

"I...I don't understand, what did you do? Why did he listen?"

The Australian's eyes went wide and black again. _"Don't worry about it, it doesn't matter. Let's just leave - you'll lock the doors behind you like you said you would."_

Medic nodded - leaving now...well, it was perfect wasn't it? The aide had left Medic to extract himself from the enclosure, trusting that he'd just leave and evacuate along with everyone else. It must not have even crossed the man's mind that the German would even contemplate taking Sniper with him - Medic must seem like the model employee to be trusted to such a degree, ha!

Moving in front of Sniper he pushed the door open and stepped into the tiny room beyond it; ordinarily there'd be a pause here to allow someone on the outside to unlock the outer door but the aide had left both open for them. Before unlatching the outer door Medic shrugged out of the lab coat he wore and offered it to Sniper.

"Here, perhaps they will overlook your lack of shoes and pants."

Sniper tugged it on, glancing at him. "Good thinking, doctor."

_Good doctor..._

Medic nodded and smiled faintly; Sniper took him by the shoulders and turned him around, giving him a gentle push toward the second door.

\-------------------------------------------------------

They took the first vehicle they found the keys still in, a white van with a simple decal of the letters ITPC emblazoned on its side. It was stocked with cotton hazmat-like suits and medical equipment, as well as a tiny freezer unit that was likely for specimen storage and transport; Sniper huddled in the back to remain hidden from view and Medic drove, carefully guiding the vehicle out of the garage and onto the road that circled around the building.

They hadn't encountered anyone on their trip to the garage and there weren't any gatherings of employees outside the building; where everyone had evacuated to was a mystery but Medic took it as a blessing.

The road led to a heavy iron gate that had an additional robotic foam arm that raised and lowered to allow vehicles passage; Medic pulled out his key cards and studied them, not knowing which would let him out and additionally knowing that by swiping one through the little reader in front of the gate that it would let someone know that it was he that had passed through here.

Swiping one card resulted in...nothing, not even an alarm. The second card prompted the iron gate to roll away and the foam arm to raise; without hesitation Medic sent the van speeding down the road, stomach tight with anxiety as he kept one eye on his rear view mirrors, fully expecting them to be discovered at any moment.

But, no one came.

They made it to the "main" road - hardly more than a glorified county road - and Medic paused, trying to remember which direction took them to the town that was an hour's drive away, not because he wanted to go to town but because he wanted to avoid it in this marked van.

And that brought up another question: where could they go? The van was branded with the facility's acronym, easily recognized, so they would need to avoid populated areas to lessen the chance that someone would notice their passing and help any pursuers. And even if they weren't in a marked vehicle they had no end destination in mind: Medic was determined to cure Sniper of his illness, but where? The labs he inhabited ten years ago were lost to him, something he had given up ten years ago when he'd "retired" from TFI.

Additionally, the van only had half a tank of gas and while Medic had his wallet on him all he had was what little cash he carried; he had a book full of checks but those were stored in his room, and his bank was still many, many hundreds of miles away because he hadn't taken the time to move money around. Even without a destination he wanted to put as much distance between the facility and himself as was possible, but with only half a tank of gas...

There was a muted knock on the wall behind him and Medic got out long enough to let Sniper out of the back of the van before deciding to take a left turn and risking accidentally ending up driving through town.

"You did good, Medic...real good. I feel better already."

Medic chuckled a bit. "And you will feel good as new, once we get somewhere safe and I can tend to you myself."

Sniper made a thoughtful noise in his throat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

Medic's choice had indeed taken them on the route that led to town, which while not ideal Medic had to admit that he had to get fuel SOMEWHERE - they couldn't avoid civilization forever if they expected to get anywhere - and stopped only long enough to fill the van's tank.

Sniper hadn't moved much in that time and Medic assumed he was sleeping for most of that time, though he sometimes heard the faintest of whimpers come from the man. He appeared to be flexing his fingers, rubbing at his wrists and forearms in his sleep, and Medic was reminded of the pains Sniper had mentioned during their talks...the ones he'd spoken of had been primarily in the roof of his mouth behind his teeth, along his spine, and in his abdomen on his left side. Was whatever was causing that pain spreading to Sniper's arms? 

The road stretched out in front of them and Medic simply drove, his mind going in circles as he tried to decide on the best course of action with Sniper's well-being in the forefront of his mind. He needed somewhere to safely treat the man, and as they drove the signs directing commuters to nearby towns came less frequently; old, rundown farmhouses with equally worn barns began to dominate the landscape, some of them coming with a complement of cattle in the fields. This wouldn't do, this wouldn't do at all-

"Pull over..."

Medic jerked - it'd been dead silent and Sniper's sudden request startled him. "W-what? Why? We are in the middle of nowhere."

"Feeling a bit sick, Doc," Sniper said slowly, still rubbing his palms together. "Pick a driveway and pull over, please?"

Medic glanced at him; Sniper's arms were soaked in sweat and his palms looked swollen, their centers an angry, puffy red. He briefly met Sniper's gaze-

_Pull over. Now._

Medic turned back to the road, noticing a gravel driveway coming up on their left and carefully guiding the van several meters up its length before slowing to a stop and putting the van in park. "What is wrong?"

Several things happened in a handful of seconds.

Medic was turning to face Sniper even as Sniper was moving toward him; the Australian's hands were spread in front of him, held up at head-height, and stretching between the swollen palms was something white and stringy, like a child's game of cat's cradle. As Medic's mind was processing this Sniper sprang at him, clamping his hands on either side of Medic's head; the white, stringy stuff was hot and wet, and sticky - Medic's cry of surprise was cut short, his mouth effectively glued shut as he instinctively closed his lips before the...the web-like gunk was slapped over his mouth.

He jerked back in surprise and slammed his head into the window, seeing spots and rather senselessly trying to get an arm up to fend off Sniper as the man crawled from his seat to on top of him; whatever that white fluid was, Sniper was intent on smearing it completely across Medic's mouth and soon had a thick layer of it in place. In desperation Medic reached up to pull at it and got his fingers onto the edge in the moments before it dried and trapped them; Sniper let out a harsh bark of a laugh and grabbed Medic's free hand by the wrist, sneering down at him.

Medic felt a pressure between his skin and Sniper's palm and more of that white gunk squirted free; with one hand glued to his face and the other now glued to Sniper's hand Medic was helpless and simply froze in place, staring up at Sniper in a mixture of fear and confusion, his breath coming heavy and panicked through his nose. 

"You know how hard it was...how hard it was to hide the changes, mate?" Sniper hissed, pushing his face close to Medic's, his breath fogging the man's glasses. "It hurt, mate...it hurt a lot, and it was hard to keep anyone from noticing."

The white substance on his face felt spongy as Medic worked his jaw-

Sniper pressed in close, leaning over Medic to pop the door open; only Sniper's hand stuck to him kept the German from toppling out on his head, but with the added room Medic leaned back and tried to kick out, kick the other man off him. This prompted another bout of laughter and suddenly the German really was falling - Sniper had somehow released his trapped wrist.

He hit the gravel hard and head-first, slumping awkwardly and almost upside down, wrenching his neck as he struggled to right himself; his legs tipped over and he slammed down on his stomach, knocking the air from him. His other hand was still firmly glued to his face and he banged his head on the van's door when he went to shove himself upright.

"Don't run, doctor..."

Medic was halfway to his feet when Sniper tackled him from the van, sending the two of them into a roll off the gravel and into the grass; the Australian managed to end up on top, pinning Medic to the ground under him and straddling his waist, grinding Medic's face into the grass and scrambling to grab Medic's single free hand. Medic screamed, the noise muffled in his throat; he flailed and bucked, trying to get Sniper off his back. 

Sniper got a hand into the German's hair and ripped his head backward, eliciting another panicked sound from the gagged Medic; the movement sent his glasses flying and left Medic staring up into a blurry sky, his neck and back muscles screaming as Sniper pulled harder, forcing him to arch backwards until Sniper could get an arm around his neck. With the addition of the arm and the awkwardness of his position Medic found himself laboring to breathe through his nose, his breath quickened and panicky and not pulling in nearly enough air-

"Stop fighting, Medic...I don't want to hurt you on accident. I'm too tired to look at you right now." 

Medic managed to get his eyes shut as Sniper's other hand dragged across them, the white substance smearing across his face and gluing his eyes shut as thoroughly as it had his mouth. He left a glob of it on Medic's chin and let go abruptly, letting Medic slam face-first back into the grass; the white stuff stuck him to the ground, not that Medic had the sense to continue to fight - falling from the van, banging his head several times, lack of oxygen and now muscles in his back knotting up...he just couldn't muster the energy in this moment to move.

"You get trussed tonight, I have to rest...it won't always be like this."

Sniper somehow released Medic's face from the grass and rolled him over, his hands stroking over the German's body leaving trails of white gunk behind; he moved the hand stuck against Medic's face and when he was done the German's hands were tied together and trapped with his fingers just under his chin, his wrists and elbows secured to his own chest with the white, web-like stuff. The gunk was also wrapped thickly around his knees and ankles, and of course he still wore a blindfold and a gag of it.

Gentle fingers suddenly stroked his cheek and Medic jerked away from them with a muffled grunt.

"Don't worry doctor...I'm going to take good care of you."


	5. Chapter 5

Despite claiming he was too tired to look at him Sniper seemed to have little difficulty in hauling Medic upright and slinging him over his shoulder; the Australian's shoulder dug painfully into the battered man's gut, but only as long as it took for him to circle around to the back of the van and gently lay Medic out on the floor inside of it.

Moments later and Medic was left in the "dark" and silence of the van, blindfolded as he was and tightly bound by the webbing - it gave only slightly when Medic had the sense of mind to test it and knew in short order that he wouldn't be breaking free from it any time soon. 

There were parts of his logic at war with one another and it was hard to get his thoughts straight; he had to keep reminding himself to breathe slowly since he could only breathe through his nose, and the feeling of even the slightest restriction to his airways had always made him slightly panicky due to years of "conditioning" as a child with asthma. 

Just...just calm down, breathe...focus...

He was angry, of course - angry at Sniper, beyond angry at the man. And frightened as well...he'd seen firsthand what the man was capable of on a battlefield, and here the Australian had him totally at his mercy and there wasn't a damn thing Medic could do at the moment to get himself out of this situation.

...a situation that was entirely the man's doing, and Medic had just walked into it without even thinking that his old friend would betray him. Why would he? 

Thinking about it, and coupled with the pain he was in, was starting to make his heart pound and his breathing quicken. Calm, calm, he had to find calm...

Underneath him he felt the van rock and bump over uneven ground; it was possible they were back on the road but he didn't recall it being this bumpy...it was an old country road with plenty of pot holes from not-quite-neglect over the years, but had it been this bad? Maybe it just seemed that way due to his other senses heightened because he couldn't see...it was interesting to think of in this manner, and provided enough of a distraction that he was able to get his breathing and heart rate back under control.

He rode in silence for some time, swinging wildly between a focused calm and a huffing, panicked state as his imagination tried to run away with his sense, until finally...the van stopped.

Over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, Medic heard the van's doors open, and felt hands grasping his pantslegs. He kicked out and connected with something solid, hearing Sniper grunt in a mixture of surprise and mild pain; again he kicked out but Sniper already had his hands on the webbing around Medic's knees, tugging him near.

Sniper actually laughed as Medic squirmed and kicked and tried to twist his body away from his hands.

"What would you even do, mate? You convince me not to touch you, that leaves you laying here for what, bloody days? Weeks?"

Growling in his throat in frustration Medic was picked up and carried, like a brushing bride over the threshold, secure in Sniper's grip and grudgingly having to admit that the man had a point - blindfolded and gagged, unable to get loose...no, he'd need to be in a better position than this if he wanted to escape.

Unable to see left him relying on his hearing, able to pick out sounds he probably would have overlooked otherwise: there was the whisper of tall grass against the hem of the labcoat Sniper still wore; the soft crunch of leaves and gravel under his bare feet; the huff of Sniper's breath, warm against Medic's nose and face. He could almost imagine Sniper carrying him up a driveway away from the van, but where were they...

The crunch of grass and rock gave way to the thud of feet on a wooden surface, creaking floorboards punctuating the noise of his footsteps as he moved; Medic's nose was immediately assaulted by the smell of mildew, mold - something wet and slowly rotting away in the midst of damp earth. It brought to mind an image of a barn, untended and falling to pieces in the middle of a field and god knew there were enough of those dotting the landscape in this area.

Sniper was starting to pant some when he finally lowered Medic to the floor, stretching him out along a wall.

"All right, mate...you stay right here and get some rest, I have to rest..."

Sniper pressed hands to Medic's hips then stepped away; his footsteps retreated for a few seconds, then Medic felt the thud of him dropping into the floor somewhere nearby.

Again the silence pressed in; Medic shifted and found his hips had been secured to the floor with webbing, preventing him from rolling over or really moving in any way.

From somewhere in the direction of his feet he could detect a cool breeze, and as the temperature dropped he knew night had to be falling - he wondered how long that evacuation alarm had lasted, and if there was even a plan in place in case a subject escaped. How long would it take to find him? How would they find him?

Medic's thoughts on the likelihood of rescue came to a screeching halt when he heard the first gasped moan.

It came from somewhere to his right, in the direction Sniper had moved; as he strained his ears he heard it again - a moan, followed by a huff of breath. It was pained, and then there was another thud against the wooden floor beneath him...wherever Sniper was, whatever he was doing right now, he was hurting. At first Medic was surprised and disgusted that he could feel even the slightest twinge of pity for the man as he lay and listen to the halting, sharp breaths, but then he thought to earlier where Sniper had mocked him for trying to kick him away: if Sniper was ill, or expired even, there was no telling how long Medic would be trapped here alone and unable to even call for help. Framed in that context, concern for the Australian was nothing to be disgusted over.

Another groan, this one half coherent and deeper, more primal.

There was no sleep for him at all that night, laying flat on his back in the floor listening to Sniper's little cries and moans, and the sounds of nails scratching at the floor and what Medic imagined to be a wall. At some point in what Medic estimated to be early morning, Sniper went silent; even straining his ears Medic could hear nothing, no sign of life from the man that was presumably in the room with him.

He was stiff from laying on the hard floor all night and his bruises from being banged around yesterday made it even worse but still, Medic began to twist and try to throw his shoulders from side to side; the floorboards beneath his body creaked but as before the webbing did not give way - he would likely have to tear up part of the floor or rip his own clothing to get free, and Medic did not possess the strength or leverage to do either.

He let himself drop flat to the floor again with a frustrated huff, and it was then that he heard the low, soft laughter.

"Getting restless, mate?"

So Sniper was still alive after all, and awake.

He could both feel and hear Sniper drag himself across the floor toward him, and flinched when a gentle hand began combing through his hair; Sniper laughed again as Medic jerked his head away with an angry grunt.

"Oh come on, doctor...if I wanted you dead you'd be dead. I ain't going to hurt you unless you make me, now...let's take care of you."

Strong hands grabbed either side of his face, vice-like and halting any movements, then there was another wet sensation being smeared across his face - similar to how the webbing had felt but less sticky and viscous. Whatever this new liquid was the webbing melted away under its application, and Medic found himself staring blearily up into Sniper's face as the man cleared away the gunk with the corner of the lab coat's hemline before pulling the older man into a sitting position, leaning him against the nearby wall.

Without his glasses Medic was hopelessly nearsighted but even with impaired vision he could see the drool coating Sniper's lips and chin; the man's mouth was slightly agape, the upper lip appeared puffy and reddened, and his skin tone overall had taken on a faint dark green tint - similar to that olive green part of camouflage, and it was most apparent around his eyes, across his neck and down to his collarbone, and in the soft hollows just beneath and behind his ears.

Then he smiled, and Medic drew back at the sight of elongated canine teeth; no wonder the man's mouth was swollen and drooling!

"You need anything, Medic? Thirsty? Gotta piss?"

As he spoke, Sniper dragged a palm across the webbing holding the German's mouth shut and it too melted away, Sniper using his thumb to wipe the man's lips clean.

"What the hell has gotten into you?" Medic finally hissed. "What are you doing?"

"Well, that's an interesting story, right there," Sniper answered after a pause. Medic watched as he rubbed a tongue across his canines. "Maybe I'll tell you, if you're a good boy."

"Let me go - I came to help you, and you clearly need it!"

Throwing back his head Sniper laughed; it was loud, far louder than Medic thought it should have been, and it even seemed to echo through his head, leaving the German wincing.

"You, mate, just need to relax. Behave yourself and I'll tell you everything you ever wanted to know."

Sniper reached out to stroke his face and Medic pulled back, fingers grazing his chin. "Get away!"

Laughing again - and god, it was so _loud_ \- Sniper leaned back on his heels, resting his arms across his legs, shaking his head. "I'll be back, Medic, don't you worry."

With that he pushed himself to his feet and slowly padded from the room; Medic remained sitting upright, now free to squint at his surroundings and get some idea of where Sniper had stashed him.

He looked to be in a dilapidated old farmhouse, in a parlor room; there was a crumbling fireplace to his left set into the wall he was leaning against, large bay windows on the eastern wall (the windows themselves were cracked and some of the panes missing), and on the north and western walls were wide doorways that led to other rooms within the house. Sniper had disappeared through the northern doorway and from where he sat all Medic could see was a square of sunlight on the floor - he could see no actual doors that led to the outside from here.

Not that he could feasibly hop away to freedom, but at least knowing where he could run if he got the chance would be comforting...

From outside he heard the sound of a vehicle door slamming shut, sounding as though it came from the same general direction of the doorway Sniper had left through - there had to be a door in that direction and Medic filed that bit of information away as he squinted at the rest of his surroundings. There really wasn't much else; there wasn't any furniture that he could see and the room he was in seemed dry enough so he wasn't certain where the wet, earthy smell was coming from.

Then, Sniper entered the room again and there was a glint of silver in his hand.

Medic drew back and slid partly down the wall as Sniper moved to straddle his legs - he held a scalpel in one hand, his empty hand reaching to pull Medic back upright.

"What do you think you're going to do with that?" Medic asked, gaze darting between the blade and Sniper's grin, a mild sense of panic starting to twist his stomach into a knot.

"Not going to hurt you," Sniper crooned. "See, look at me-"

Strong fingers grabbed Medic by the chin and forced him to stare into Sniper's face; the man's eyes were widening, the pupils encompassing the entire eye and drawing Medic's gaze and mind in; a familiar sense of blankness pushed all anxiety aside, leaving him pleasantly numb as he stared into Sniper's eyes. 

" _All right Medic. I need you to be a good boy and sit there, all nice and still. Will you do that for me?"_

"Of...of course, Sniper..." Medic murmured, hardly blinking. "I'll sit...and be good..."

He'd forgotten all about the scalpel in the Australian's hand, and this time when the man laughed it was less grating and loud, seeming softer and pleasing and rolling over him like a warm blanket. There wasn't anything to worry about, Sniper wouldn't hurt him.

" _Just stay right there, right like that..."_

After a moment or two longer to make sure the enthrallment would stick, Sniper broke eye contact and turned his attention to the Medic's hands; sticking the scalpel's handle between his teeth Sniper quickly dissolved the webbing holding the man's wrists together against his own chest, and moved the limbs so they were stuck to the floor by the palms. It was a good thing Medic did not have those thick gloves he had never seemed to remove when he and Sniper had been employed by TFI...

With Medic still staring dreamily at the far wall and with his arms now out of the way, Sniper spat the scalpel back into his hand and began to cut the buttons from Medic's shirt with neat little flicks, rather liking the quiet little clattering noise of each piece hitting the floor. When the buttons were removed he tugged the man's shirt free of his pants and pulled it open, running his fingers down the revealed bare skin in admiration; even now it seemed Medic kept himself in top shape and age had done little more than soften him up about the middle. It was pleasing to see and touch, and Sniper had a moment of satisfaction as Medic shivered at the feeling of fingers examining him.

"There we are, doc...now, not going to lie to you, mate. This is going to hurt - the first time is always the strongest, just like when I first rolled you. Don't you worry though...it's going to get easier..."

Sniper dropped the scalpel to the floor beside him and scooted closer to Medic, settling himself in the man's lap and straddling his hips with his knees pressed to the wall behind the German. Medic's breath was warm against Sniper's cheek as he leaned in close, the doctor seemingly unaware of him until he pressed his hand to the man's cheek, the German sort of nuzzling into the touch but still staring straight ahead.

Sniper smiled and ran his tongue over his teeth, pressing lips to Medic's neck. "Here we go, mate."

He dropped his mouth down lower, to the fleshy area where neck and shoulder met, his jaws opening wide so he could sink his elongated canines into the skin, pressing in as hard as he could to puncture the skin and get his teeth in as deep as possible.

Then, the venom began to flow.

At first the Medic beneath him simply stiffened with a sharp little intake of breath - not fully aware of what was happening immediately, but as the venom was injected he was coming to his senses, and Sniper dug fingers into the man's hair to hold him still as he instinctively tried moving away from the source of the pain.

For Sniper the release of the venom was wonderful, like a muscle cramp that had finally eased; he'd spent the previous night allowing the sacs to finally fill, having spent months on end fighting against the final changes. It had been agonizing to allow it all to happen in the same night - to let the teeth hollow and grow, to let the venom form and to store it in the various sacs within his body, to let the new organs that governed the new changes to form and grow and fill. The aches and pains he'd suffered had been worth it if only for this moment, for the sensation of injection and the delicious sounds Medic was beginning to make as he came out of the trance; he would have tried to comfort the man if his mouth wasn't full, but like he'd warned...the first time was always the strongest.

For Medic, as he became more aware as the pain brought him out of the mind-numbing emptiness, he had a moment of extreme disorientation that quickly gave way to a feeling of nausea, alarm, and panic - he was upright and pinned to the wall, unable to move, and it felt like liquid fire was being poured onto his shoulder.

The alarm at being unable to move was quickly overwhelmed by the pain as it quickly spread from his shoulder to every inch of his body, muscles locking up and leaving him unable to even breathe; his mouth was open but without air in his lungs he couldn't even scream, almost curiously aware of even the smallest blood vessel within his body as whatever ailed him coursed through his body and burned through his heart. 

\-----------------------------------------------------

Sniper at last let out a satisfied sigh and lifted his head from Medic, drops of a yellowish poison mingling with the drool on his chin; he wiped it absently onto his sleeve and went to stare into Medic's eyes but found the man had passed out. Probably for the best as Sniper wasn't sure he could command enough of the man's focus to put him back under again.

He gently stroked Medic's cheek, tutting softly. "The first time is always the worst..." 

Sniper took a moment to move the scalpel a safe distance away, then released the limp Medic's hands from the floor and gathered him into his arms, rocking him like a small child and idly licking the blood from the bleeding bite wound.

"Always the worst...but don't you worry, you'll get used to it. You and me, Doc...we're going to make a pack - we're going to get everyone back together, just like old times. Just got to get through this and then you'll see..."

\----------------------------------------------------------

Medic's mouth was dry and his tongue was plastered to the roof of his mouth when he awoke; he had a moment of wishing the pain had killed him, as while it had lessened the memory of it was still fresh and a ghost of it still coursed through his veins in a faint but stinging reminder that some foreign substance was inside him.

He was laying on the floor again, his hands down at his waist this time and his shirt missing; the room was dim and he couldn't muster the energy to move his head enough to check the windows to see if the day was merely overcast or if it was early morning or late afternoon.

His shoulder throbbed when he did try to move his head, which sent a wave of nausea coursing through him that was squashed only by him squeezing his eyes shut and firmly reminding himself that to vomit while flat on his back would be a terrible idea. When he felt safe enough he took in several deep breaths until the nausea receded, then Medic found himself staring up at the blurry ceiling wondering what the hell had happened. His last waking memory had been of Sniper kneeling in front of him with a scalpel...had there been some sort of drug in the van that Sniper had gotten his hands on?

And speaking of Sniper...

Very, very carefully, Medic turned his head bit by bit to look out into the room, finding it empty save for him. Great.

Then, almost as if on cue, Sniper entered the room; in one hand he had a chipped white coffee mug, and in the other was a bucket and a wadded up rag. He walked over and knelt at Medic's head, again reaching to pet him.

"Thirsty?"

Medic remained stubbornly silent; Sniper shrugged and dipped the mug into the bucket, bringing it back up full of clean water. He sat it on the floor near his knee and bent to slide an arm behind Medic's neck, easily lifting the weakly protesting man up into a sitting position then steadying him as he swayed and paled, pressing his lips together.

"The first time is always the worst...I know mate, already been through it. You at least ain't got two broken legs to go with it. Here, drink."

Medic felt the cold, wet lip of the mug pressed against him and reluctantly obeyed - he WAS thirsty, and the water at least didn't smell or seem dirty or drugged. He had to sip slowly and Sniper was patient, letting him drink his fill and setting the mug aside when Medic shook his head and drew back from it.

Next the rag was dipped into the bucket and wrung out, and Sniper began to wash Medic's face, then gently scrubbed away dried blood and venom from the bite wound on his shoulder.

"There we go...how we feeling?"

"Get away from me," Medic muttered, feeling a twinge of satisfaction to see a hint of annoyance on the man's face.

"No, doc, I don't think I will. Are you hungry?"

"Go to hell, bitte."

That tiny bit of annoyance disappeared, replaced with a smirk. "Need to piss?"

"What do you want from me?"

"Every pack needs members, mate. You're going to be my second...you and me, we're going to get everyone back together."

He turned to dunk and wring the rag out again, Medic squinting at him and trying to note any other visible change to the man; the swelling in his lip had gone down, the drool was gone. Where the lab coat gaped open medic could just make out a dark green discoloration to the skin just beneath the ribs on Sniper's left side. That spot at least could be mistaken for an old bruise, but the overall greenish tinge to his skin tone - more pronounced in some places than in others - was still present.

"What has happened to you, old friend?" he muttered into the silence.

Sniper turned to face him, dropping to sit in a cross-legged position, the wet rag held loosely in a hand. "Good boys get their questions asked. You going to behave?"

"Set me free and I'll consider it."

Sniper snorted and laughed, Medic wincing at the noise and then wincing again at the fresh wave of nausea it triggered. 

Medic took a moment to compose himself again, then fixed Sniper with what he hoped was a properly sympathetic look. "Sniper...I can help you. I heard you last night - you were in pain, yes? I was brought in to help make you well, let me do that. Whatever has happened, I can cure it."

Sniper nodded at that, looking thoughtful. "Yeah...probably, you could. Which is why I convinced that idiot to bring you in first." At Medic's surprised look Sniper laughed again. "What, did you think you were brought in on a whim? That they magically knew about you, a no-name nobody whose entire existence was wiped off the map when you left TFI? Nah, mate - I made them bring you in."

"W-why?"

Sniper tossed the rag into the bucket. "It's like you said, doc - you could cure me. You're probably the only son of a bitch crazy enough to try. The rest of them saw me as a project, something to prod and poke and study without moving forward - they didn't want to cure me until they understood what changed me, see. They wanted to know if it could be passed from person to person, and if it could? They'd wipe me out, reduce me to a jar of organs...nice and safe to study, no threat to anyone."

"You don't know that."

"Oh but I do, doc. I can be real persuasive when I want something out of someone."

Medic felt a chill go crawling down his spine at that, a memory pushing at the back of his mind. His last waking thought the previous night was...

Sniper was studying him, a knowing smile slowly working across his face. "You know I can, you know because I've used it on you, you've seen me do it, and there ain't a bloody thing you can do about it."

Eyes...

Medic immediately averted his gaze and Sniper burst into laughter.

"Smart man, doc...you always were smart. But you've got me all wrong, I'm not going to hurt you. You keep going on about how you want to help me? Well I want to help you...let me help you out..."

"N-no! Get away!" Medic barked as Sniper seized him, knotting fingers into his hair and forcing him to turn and look at him. He immediately squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, feeling his gorge rise as all the sudden movements spurred his nausea and Sniper's laughter cut through his head. "Let go of me!"

Webbing spurted out of Sniper's hand and Medic found the back of his head secured to the wall, leaving Sniper's hand free to hold him by the chin. He kept his eyes closed - by god he would keep his eyes shut! Whatever Sniper was doing, whatever he could do to make people obey him, it had something to do with his eyes...he couldn't make eye contact, he didn't dare look the man in the face-

His right eye exploded into a searing pain and he let out a garbled scream, something cold and hard embedding itself into his eye; Sniper dragged whatever it was around, like he was stirring a pot, his iron grip on Medic's chin preventing the man from moving away from the mutilation - he could do little more than scream which quickly trailed off as he vomited - it was just too much, it was-

Bile and the water he'd just drank dribbled down his chin and chest, coating Sniper's hand as he heaved again; for one blessed moment the pain lessened, just slightly, as whatever had been jammed into his eye socket was removed...and then gouged into his other eye. He went to scream again and ended up sucking a mouthful of puke into his windpipe, sending him into a coughing fit.

And all the while Sniper laughed, and held him in an unyielding grip heedless of the vomit covering his hand.

When he had sufficiently mauled the Medic's other eye he abruptly let the man go; Medic tilted his head down as far as he could given that his hair was glued to the wall, coughing and whimpering and with a face full of vomit, tears, blood, and the jelly of his eyes running down his cheeks.

He was hardly cognizant of Sniper beginning to tip him sideways until he was halfway down and when he realized Sniper intended to lay him on his back he began to feebly fight back; through the sickness and the pain he was still aware of the danger of asphyxiation if he puked while laying down, but Sniper shoved him flat (banging his head against the floor roughly in the process) and took his face in his hands, holding him still.

He flailed and fought, coughing and cursing weakly, as Sniper's fingers found his eyes and began to prize his eyelids open.

"I CAN'T SEE!" Medic finally shrieked. What was he doing?! 

He heard Sniper retch an instant before something hot, wet, and the consistency of overcooked oatmeal hit him full in the face; it seeped into his eyes, Sniper holding them open so Medic couldn't blink the foul substance away. It went up his nose and into his mouth, and he swallowed on instinct to clear his airway but that only spurred a new wave of heaving and choking as Sniper held him too firmly to allow him to turn his head.

"You're making it way worse than has to be, mate," came Sniper's dry comment.

He held Medic there and let the disgusting mess ooze down his face and into his hair; at last Medic ceased fighting and simply struggled to clear his throat and lungs, coughing so hard his breath honked. It was then, finally, that Sniper turned him onto his side and allowed him to cough everything up, even going to far as to lightly pat the German's back.

Sickened, in agony, and limp, Medic could only lay there as Sniper replaced the web blindfold over his eyes.

"Let that sink in a bit...it'll stop hurting in about an hour."

Medic was only distantly aware of Sniper bringing the rag to his face again, gently cleaning away the sickening mess and then dribbling water into his mouth to let him rinse and spit.

And then he patted Medic's shoulder, and stroked his cheek.


	6. Chapter 6

His hair was crusty with sweat, audibly crunching as he slowly turned his head with a soft groan. Once again he was flat on his back in the floor, his arms bent at the elbows and his hands held to the floor near his head.

A part of him had been praying he simply would not wake up, that he'd die of stress and the trauma of having both eyes punctured and nearly carved from his head...but he was awake.

And not in any pain.

There was still webbing over his eyes and the muscles there blinked once, twice...his eyelids, ruined as they had been, still felt as though they moved. In fact, unless Medic was simply dreaming or even hallucinating, it even felt like he still had eyes.

But the lack of the pain...that stood out more than the lingering, physical memory of possessing eyes and eyes lids that could blink. It was the one thing Medic would not have guessed he would be without, if he woke up.

Raising his head he went to shift his hips from side to side, testing to see where he was tied down at this time; as before he was tethered to the floor by his waist, his knees and ankles were still bound together, and amazingly he did not even feel stiff despite having spent God knew how long in the floor.

The room was silent but Medic could visualize Sniper sitting just out of reach, staring at him...it sent a shiver down his spine and he let his head fall back to the floor with a soft thump.

Had he dreamed it? Was the previous night and the terror that filled it just an exceptional hallucination brought on by some drug Sniper had injected him with? It seemed plausible and he desperately wanted to believe that explanation - Medic was no stranger to experimental drugs and hallucinations, but had never suffered something of this magnitude before; even now he could recall the feeling of the puncture, the explosion of pain, the drag of something sharp and solid within the sockets as his eyes were stirred like a bowl of soup-

He shuddered, an involuntary noise coming from deep within his throat.

Then, the whisper of fabric moving. "You awake, doc?"

Medic remained silent and kept his head facing forward, not daring to move.

Vibrations in the floor announced Sniper's approach moments before there was again a pair of hands on either side of Medic's head; he bared his teeth and tried to jerk away, and surprisingly Sniper allowed it, pulling away with a sigh.

"Listen, Medic, it's like I said - you're making this worse than it's got to be. Let me show you-"

"Get away from me," Medic snarled. "I don't know what you have done to me..."

"Just trying to take care of my pack," Sniper said into the pause.

He again seized Medic's face, gluing a hand to his cheek to help hold the man's thrashing head steady, and began to steadily melt away the webbing covering the man's eyes. When it was gone, Medic stared angrily up into Sniper's face, then simply froze.

Sniper's face was clear, not blurry in the slightest, when at this distance it should have been an indistinct, fuzzy mess with dark spots marking where the eyes, nose, and mouth were. He was seeing Sniper now as he saw the man with the aid of his glasses - crystal clear.

"I..." The word was breathy, hardly more than a whisper; Medic didn't even know what he'd been about to say, the words falling away in his shock. He could see - he could see-

Sniper smiled at him, lightly brushing his hair back from his face and turning him this way and that, studying him. "Not so bad now, is it? How's it looking, Medic?"

"Mein gott..."

With a dribble of the web-dissolving liquid Sniper removed his hand from Medic's cheek and sat back on his haunches, looking pleased with himself. Medic lifted his head from the floor and stared around the room in amazement.

He could see the grain in the wooden slats that made up the floor; the walls were dingy and filthy, but the paneling had once been a pale blue with little yellow flowers in neat vertical rows; he could pick out tiny cracks in the plaster of the ceiling as well as the fan-shaped patterning to it.

His vision was perfect. He had not seen this clearly since...well, since he was a young child, before he'd discovered a love for books and had ruined his eyesight by reading by the pathetic glow that filtered through his bedroom window at night from the nearest streetlamp.

His gaze found Sniper. "...what did you do?"

Sniper rubbed his knuckles against Medic's cheek, smiling down at him. "I told you...I'm going to take real good care of you, doc. That's just a hint...a taste..."

"But how?"

Sniper moved to release one of Medic's hands from the floor, bringing it down to stick it near the waistband of his trousers. "You've got to piss by now, doc, and I'm betting you're hungry. You going to be a good boy and behave yourself, or do I have to do all the man-handling for you?"

The comment, along with the lewd grin flashed his direction, dispelled some of the remaining amazement at his restored vision, and Medic found his face warming at the thought of Sniper handling...well, _that._

"I will...behave," he said slowly. "I do not need assistance."

"Good." Sniper released his other hand and brought that one too down to Medic's waistband, then removed the webbing from his knees and ankles and helped him to stand.

Having been flat on his back for so long, actually being upright made his slightly light-headed - perhaps it was the speed at which he'd stood up - and Sniper stood behind him, a hand on each shoulder, to steady him. "Ahead, through that door, then to your right."

Medic took a few uneasy steps before finding his balance and did as directed, stepping through the doorway into a dingy, crumbling hallway with several visible doorways along its length. The hallway ended in a window but Sniper purposely guided him into the nearest door on the right, which opened into a claustrophobic bathroom that was barely large enough for the sink, toilet, and claw-foot tub it housed.

The toilet was full of water but had a thick ring of black mold all around the inside of the bowl, just above the water line, and the room stank of rot and dirt - THIS was the source of the smell Medic had picked up on when he'd first been dragged into this house.

The claw-foot tub was rusted and missing its faucets; the sink appeared mostly clean, if yellowed with age with rust coating the hot water faucet specifically. There was a mirror over the sink but it was broken, and what little glass still clung to the frame was cloudy and scratched beyond use.

Sniper pressed himself against Medic's back to reach around to free the man's hands, then he stepped back to lean within the doorway.

"No privacy?" Medic asked after a moment.

Sniper was silent; Medic supposed it wouldn't have mattered anyway - there was no window in here, no other way out unless he felt like trying to claw his way through the wall, floor, or ceiling. Aside from the unease of having his only route of escape blocked Medic was also not at all comfortable with the idea of the man being so close while he was vulnerable - it would not truly be a literal 'caught with ones pants down' moment, but it was close enough that Medic momentarily debated how long he could hold his urine.

However...as unpredictable as Sniper was, the idea of pissing himself later during another assault was too humiliating to consider, and Medic silently unzipped his fly and did his business.

When he was done and had tucked himself back in, he felt Sniper's warm breath blowing into his ear and froze.

"You got it easy, doc..." Sniper whispered. Medic didn't dare move as the man's arms slowly inched around him, one around his waist and the other up across his chest; Sniper held him close, pressed against his back with his lips to his ear. "It was dark...I was driving, only thing on the entire bloody road for miles. Just how I liked it. Nothing in my headlights except pavement...but then I stopped, like I hit a wall."

Medic slowly lifted his arms out from his body, fingers splayed, swallowing hard. Maybe if he was quick enough...maybe-

"Didn't see a damn thing. Whatever I hit, crushed the engine back into the cab...you ever had a steering wheel embedded in your chest cavity, Doctor? You know what it feels like? Broken legs, shattered ribs...covered in glass?"

Despite Sniper not being overly threatening, Medic had a rising sense of unease in the pit of his stomach, and could hear a soft...whispering, roaring sound, in his ears. It wasn't the sound of his own blood or pulse, but something else...something just on the edge of his consciousness, almost coherent in a way, and that was somehow more concerning than the embrace Sniper held him in.

"It dragged me out...laid me out on the pavement. Filled me up - eyes, nose, stomach and lungs. It even slit my belly open and poured into my cavity - every inch it could fill, it oozed on into."

Medic swallowed again. "What did?"

"It."

Sniper drew his thumb across Medic's stomach in an imitation of slitting him open. "Right across here...and I laid there for days. And It whispered to me...told me all I needed to know. Just like how I'm going to tell you."

"You're insane," Medic said, surprised at how calm he sounded. "You are ill."

Sniper laughed, his breath huffing into Medic's ear. "You got it all wrong, mate...and you got it easy. You don't have to suffer like I did, you won't have to hide it. It'll be gradual, careful...pleasant, as pleasant as you want it to be."

The hand that had drawn the thumb across his belly dropped a bit lower, fingers tucking just into the top of his waistband. Oh surely not-

"All you have to do, Medic...is just let it hap-"

In one motion Medic seized Sniper's wrists and shoved backward, slamming the male into the door frame and feeling an explosion of air blow passed his ear as all the breath in the Australian was forced out of him at the impact. Sniper's arms went slack and Medic threw them off himself and spun, throwing a clumsy punch for the man's jaw and managing to graze him.

Sniper recovered far more quickly than Medic had anticipated, however, and came up swinging; he jabbed stiffened fingers into Medic's throat that sent the German staggering back and gasping for breath, then seconds later Sniper had him by the throat and was hauling him out of the little bathroom to slam him into the wall opposite the doorway.

His lungs were already screaming for air as Sniper squeezed and simultaneously lifted, Medic frantically grabbing at the arm throttling him as his toes began to leave the floor.

Sniper's expression was oddly calm - almost disappointed, even - and despite himself Medic found himself locking gazes with the male as he began to strangulate.

In the very brief moment before Sniper's pupils opened wide and engulfed him and his conscious thought, Medic found himself fixating on the fact that the whites of Sniper's eyes had gone a sickly yellow, then moments later that thought was swept away as Sniper's will imposed itself over Medic.

Sniper let him hang and strangle a few seconds longer then lowered him gently until the German stood solidly on his own two feet. Medic's face was an alarming shade of red and his throat would be bruised from both the strangling and from Sniper's blow, but his breathing was steadily evening out, helped along by Sniper's hypnotic gaze and its calming, encompassing effect.

" _And just what do you have to say for yourself?"_

"I'm..." Medic's mouth moved as he swallowed, his lips moving but no sound coming out.

Sniper frowned and raised his free hand to his mouth, a sound like a wet burp slipping out between his lips before he spat a mouthful of green sludge into his hand; he smeared it across the German's throat, gently rubbing it in and watching in satisfied silence as it sank into the skin and disappeared.

Medic swallowed again, his shoulders slumping; the pain of his throat was easing with the application of the sludge, and without that minor distraction Medic came fully under Sniper's gaze and relaxed.

"I'm sorry, Sniper," the man said softly, head beginning to droop toward his chest. "Please...forgive me..."

Sniper absently wiped his hand clean on his lab coat, smiling. He moved closer, sliding a leg between Medic's and pressing their hips together. _"I can forgive you...if you beg me."_

"Please..."

Medic slowly blinked, and now that he was close Sniper took a moment to admire the man's eyes - they were gorgeous, and now they wouldn't be hidden behind a layer of glass either. He leaned forward to press an approving kiss over each eyelid. _"You can do better than that."_

"Please, forgive me...I did not mean it."

Sniper gently pulled against Medic's shoulders, nodding in approval as the German let his weight rest on the leg beneath his groin; after a moment Sniper slipped his hands into Medic's and pressed them against the wall above the man's head, nuzzling in against his neck.

" _I think I'm full enough for your second dose. You ready?"_

"Yes, Sniper," Medic murmured. "Please..."

" _All right, but only because you asked so nicely."_

His jaw popped as he opened his mouth wide and bit down into the man's neck, several inches above where his first bite mark was. The flow of venom was as wonderful as previously, and even though Medic stiffened and whimpered in pain this time the enthrallment held - Medic didn't even attempt to pull away, merely shaking and beginning to sweat, struggling to hold his eyes open and making the most delightful noises.

When Sniper was emptied Medic slumped against him and Sniper stroked the back of the man's neck, shushing him as he shook and trembled.

"You've got it easy, Medic...slow and steady. Nothing to hide, nothing to fight..."

He swept the man up into his arms and carried him back into the other room, dropping to his knees against the wall and then settling against it with Medic held against his chest; Sniper could feel the man's heart racing as it pumped the venom through his system - he had no idea how much venom he actually produced so he had clear idea how many times he would have to inject the Medic...but, slow and steady...slow and steady...

\-------------------------------------------------------

When Medic next woke his mind was fuzzy and his neck stiff - the memory of Sniper striking him was hazy, distant, and seemed more like a nightmare than reality.

He sat up, finding that while his hands and legs were bound again he wasn't tethered to the floor this time; his mouth was dry and his nose was full of the smell of blood, but he didn't remember being bloodied or bloodying Sniper, if that little fight had actually happened and wasn't just a product of wishful thinking.

A wet plop from somewhere in the room caught his attention, and he turned to find Sniper sitting on his heels near the old fireplace, the scalpel in one hand and a partly gutted rabbit carcass in the other. He watched Sniper carelessly toss another handful of viscera into the fireplace with a second moist splat, then the Australian seemed to realize he was being watched and turned look at him.

Medic quickly averted his gaze, gritting his teeth a moment before then working his tongue around in his mouth, trying to coax saliva production. Sniper got up and came toward him, leaving a trail of blood splatters in his wake with the limp rabbit still in hand.

"Morning, mate. You need anything? Hungry?"

"Water," was all Medic said. Sniper simply nodded and tossed the rabbit over to the fireplace before leaving, to come back a few minutes later with the bucket and the mug from before.

He tried not to think about it as Sniper, his hands still coated in rabbit blood and fur, dipped the mug and filled it, then held it up to Medic's lips; Medic closed his eyes and drank, finding himself using his teeth to at least filter out stray bits of hair that he spat to the floor when he'd emptied the mug. Sniper dipped and filled it again and Medic drained that mug too, but refused the third. "No. Thank you."

"Fair enough. You hungry?"

Medic turned his head enough to eye the rabbit, a sudden unhappy thought coming to mind. "...that?"

"Not much to be had around here, mate," Sniper said as way of explanation, retrieving the carcass and making a show of dusting it off with a smirk. He knelt in front of Medic, scalpel slicing a thin line of meat from the ribs.

Medic made a face. "I will not eat it raw."

"A fire'd let someone know we're here, and we don't want that."

"YOU don't want that," Medic growled. 

Sniper smiled, his pupils flickering briefly. " _Neither do you."_

Medic's eyelids drooped, then just as quickly as it had come on the mind-numbing gaze's effect faded, and he glared at the floor at Sniper's feet as Sniper laughed.

"I won't let you starve, doc."

Bloodied fingers grabbed Medic's chin and began to force his head up; Medic squeezed his eyes shut, hissing curses at the man, then sputtered and spat as Sniper attempted to slip the bit of flesh between his lips. "I said no!"

"Suit yourself," Sniper chuckled, popping the meat into his own mouth and chewing wetly, twin lines of blood and drool leaking from the corners of his mouth. "I won't let you starve."

A cold little knot formed in Medic's stomach at that. He believed him.


	7. Chapter 7

It was growing difficult to gauge the passage of time.

Sure, Medic could see whether it was dark or light, and could determine how bright or dim the day was, but without a clock he couldn't be certain of the time of day or even what day it was. If he blacked out and woke up and found it was still daylight, did that mean he hadn't been unaware for very long, or had he been out an entire day? If it was dark, was it the same day or had he slept clear into the next night?

It was difficult and worrisome to ponder because his time lately was one long string of struggling against Sniper, fighting to avoid making eye contact but ultimately being forced to, and then coming aware later with no recollection of what had happened after meeting his gaze.

Furthermore, he was beginning to feel...different, at times somehow feeling both lethargic but also more aware of his surroundings, especially aware of where Sniper was within the old farmhouse. It was like a sixth sense in a way - he innately knew where the other man was at times, and that feeling of unease at the Australian's proximity was beginning to fade.

In fact, Medic almost welcomed the man's presence, even if he found himself futilely fighting to avoid locking gazes with him.

It had to be a result of whatever drug Sniper was injecting him with...there was no other explanation that made sense, and for the life of him Medic couldn't think of what drug or chemical family could have this kind of effect on him - it could be a chemical cocktail of some sort he supposed, but he didn't want to think about it.

Honestly, he...was finding he didn't want to think much at all, and overall that was much more frightening than the inability to determine how much time was passing.

Surely...surely Cleward and the others were looking for him. They had to be - he had disappeared with their prize test subject, and when he was found he could claim Sniper had kidnapped him (and isn't that technically what had happened, anyway?) He just...he needed to find a way to survive long enough to be rescued...the question was how best could he manage that?

Provoking Sniper led to "rough handling" at the man's hands, and while Sniper somehow miraculously repaired any damage he did to the German (HOW he did that was another thing Medic did not want to thinl about) the fact remained that there might come a time where Sniper would decide he was too much effort and just kill him outright...he might claim otherwise, might repeat his littany of 'taking good care' of Medic, but that could easily change if Medic caused him too much grief.

But...not fighting against the man left Medic open to god-knew-what; there was no telling what was truly happening during those times where he was unaware of himself when he met Sniper's eyes - one such instance Medic could recall with a mix of shame, anger, and fear, was coming back to full awareness as Sniper was tugging his pants back into place and zipping him back up...a small voice in the back of his head had pointed out that it was highly unlikely Sniper had taken him to the bathroom while he was out of his mind.

_Going to take good care of you, Doctor._

Medic needed to find a balance, some way to appear acquiescent while still maintaining enough control that Sniper couldn't just have his way with him...and he needed to determine what exactly Sniper was drugging him with and maybe persuade the man to reduce his usage of it.

...it wasn't much of a plan, but it was a start. He just needed to survive until rescue came.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

When Sniper came into the room holding another limp rabbit Medic had the sudden realization that he only recalled refusing food once, when Sniper had initially offered him raw meat, and yet...he wasn't hungry. That thought coupled with knowing he was regularly experiencing lapses in memory made his stomach turn, but he offered the male a very brief smile before averting his eyes.

"Hungry, doc?"

"No, thank you," Medic answered quietly. "I am a bit thirsty, however."

Sniper made a noise of acknowledgement and sat the carcass down near the windowsill before leaving and coming back with that ever-familiar bucket and mug. Medic drank with his eyes shut and when he felt "full" he nodded and turned his head, listening as Sniper retreated to retrieve his latest catch and sit down before the fireplace to gut it, as he did each time he came inside with the game he'd caught (Medic was at least thankful that he cleaned up his mess at night, carrying out the entrails and...he wasn't sure what Sniper DID with them, but at least they were not left to rot).

"You sure you aren't hungry, mate?" Sniper's tone was sly, and Medic could hear the smirk without needing to glance that way.

"I am certain."

"Haven't eaten in awhile."

"I am not hungry." 'Not for raw meat,' Medic added silently.

Sniper snorted and there was a squishing noise as he gripped the rabbit and peeled the skin from its back. "You're hungry, doc, you just won't admit it. Just like last time."

Again Medic's stomach twisted. "I will not eat it raw."

"You will, because you have."

"I have not," Medic said through gritted teeth. "And I will not."

"Yeah you will."

Rather than argue further Medic simply sat, listening to the sound of the guts hitting the stone, hearing the drip of the blood. Despite how soured his stomach felt, Medic found himself salivating a bit, thinking of that warm red liquid splashing...the sight of blood was pleasing and fascinating to him and always had been - it was one large reason why he'd taken interest in the medical field - but this reaction was a bit of surprise. He'd never felt driven to taste or ingest blood though he had many times on accident swallowed some (when men are being shot and blown to pieces around you, sometimes bits get into places they...really shouldn't). The taste wasn't altogether unpleasant, coppery and thick and heavy, but he'd never "liked" or craved it.

All at once the smell was overwhelming, and he opened his eyes to find Sniper right in front of him; quickly Medic stared off toward the fireplace, but not before noticing Sniper was holding a dripping cut of flesh out toward him.

Medic swallowed - it smelled...good. The soured feeling in his stomach was gone, replaced by a grumbling need for sustenance, and he was imagining the taste across his tongue and-

He swallowed again and kept his head turned. "N-no, thank you, herr Sniper. Not raw."

Sniper stayed where he was, watching and waiting, a knowing little smile on his face that Medic could just make out in his peripheral vision. They stayed like that for several moments before he felt a tugging at his mind, a quiet whisper begging him to turn and look, just for a moment...

Just a moment...not long enough to ensnare him...what would it...really hurt...

Medic slowly turned his head just enough to peek, his gaze lifting just as slowly to look at the bit of meat again, stomach audibly growling. If he was to survive long enough to be rescued...

It just, smelled so enticing...he was hungry, if he starved to death before...

Medic hardly noticed the point where he'd willingly turned his head and lifted his gaze to Sniper's, his head tilting backward to rest against the wall behind him as he visibly relaxed. Sniper's eyes were wide and dark and erased his conflicted thoughts of desiring raw meat, and as Medic sank into that comfortable, numb feeling Sniper smiled and gently patted his cheek.

" _There we go, Medic. Open up mate, let's get you fed."_

Medic obediently opened his mouth and Sniper slipped the offered meat in; it was wet, smooth, and light, and Medic worked it around in his mouth a moment, tasting it and examining the texture. He pressed it against the roof of his mouth and reveled in the fluid leaking free when he applied pressure with his tongue.

The meat slid wetly down his throat as he swallowed it whole then opened his mouth for the next piece, tucking it into a cheek to leave him free to suck the blood from Sniper's fingers when they lingered close to his lips. When the fingers were pulled from his reach he chewed the meat and held it in his mouth, rolling it on his tongue before swallowing.

So it went until Sniper paused, picking meat free from the ribs and nibbling at it himself. _"Full now, doctor?"_

"Yes Sniper...thank you," Medic replied.

Sniper's attention went to the man's cheeks, watching them bulge slightly as the German poked his tongue about, looking to get every bit of meat and blood. He chuckled and slid fingers under the man's chin, gently gripping his face and feeling the muscles move as Medic moved his tongue about.

" _Are you ready for your next dose? How's it feel? Noticing any changes yet?"_

Medic was silent a moment, then blinked slowly. "I am changing...yes, I am ready. Please, Sniper..."

Sniper tossed the rabbit's remains into the fireplace and wiped his hand on the lab coat before scooting forward to settle himself comfortably across the German's lap; he paused as he leaned in close, noticing blood splatters on the front of the doctor's shirt - he had cut the buttons off but left the rest of it on and now the fabric was showing signs of the last couple of meals Medic had been fed.

" _Here doc, give me your hands-"_

As his arms were freed from the webbing strapping them to his sides Medic calmly raised his hands and placed them into Sniper's, who lifted the man's arms up long enough to pull the stained clothing free.

" _There we go. It'll be a lot easier to keep you clean without that on,"_ Sniper crooned, restraining Medic's arms again and running his fingers up and down his bare chest.

Medic's head moved in a manner that implied he was trying to nod but couldn't quite keep his head from beginning to droop toward his chest. "You are taking...very good care of me..."

" _Yeah I do, I'm going to keep taking good care of you. You belong to me now, you're part of my pack."_

"I belong..." 

The words were barely a murmur and Sniper chuckled as he tossed the stained shirt aside and moved back in closer, pressing himself up against Medic's bare chest and pausing a few seconds to enjoy the feeling of skin-to-skin contact before nosing in against Medic's neck. 

He bit down and closed his eyes, exulting in the feeling of venom flowing, and then felt Medic's erection pressing against him and had to laugh as he gently rubbed himself back and forth over it - he couldn't disengage until he'd emptied his venom sacks but that didn't mean he couldn't tease the German a little bit while he was at it, and listening to the needy little sounds beginning to come from the man's throat...beautiful, just beautiful.

Emptied, he sat up and wiped stray drops of poison from his lips. It was a good sign that Medic was starting to associate being bitten with pleasure - he squirmed a lot less and the sounds he made were downright intoxicating to hear, but it was primarily a sign that he was reaching a point of no return: soon the physical chances would be setting in, the enthralling gaze would be less effective as a master-servant mental bond was forged in its stead, and eventually...well, Sniper would have to teach Medic how to hunt properly, like any good pack leader would.

" _You've been a good boy lately, doc. You ready for your reward?"_

Medic murmured something, eyelids drooping closed as he writhed under Sniper, caught in the throes of the latest bite.

Sniper chuckled to himself and relocated Medic's arms to his chest and secured them before sliding off the man's lap so he could unbutton and unzip his pants and pull them down to his knees. He eyed the man, ran his fingers over the soft belly - he would miss the gentle roundness of that stomach, excess fat would be used to fuel the changes that would be visibly apparent soon.

" _On your knees."_

With Sniper's assistance Medic got to his knees, hunched over and swaying slightly as Sniper positioned himself behind the man.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Every time he woke up now that curious whispering noise was in his ears.

He had first noticed it when Sniper had held him in an embrace in the bathroom, before Medic had first attempted to overpower and escape the man. The whisperings had been just that: whispers - nothing he could understand, but loud enough he could just barely hear them. With other things to occupy his attention since then Medic hadn't given much thought to those whispering noises, but... They were growing louder as time went on and he remembered initially being concerned that he was hearing things.

Initially.

Now however he was finding them comforting; it was white noise, something to fill the silence when Sniper was absent hunting, but as they grew more audible Medic began to try and listen, straining his hearing even though he was convinced it was all in his head. They were still just on the outside of his comprehension, just loud enough that the German could agonize over not being able to understand them.

He was still dutifully pretending, following along with Sniper's demands and desires, and he was pretending so well that Sniper either hadn't noticed his sudden "change of heart" or he didn't care if it was honest or not. Struggling to listen to the whispers was almost a way for Medic to recharge, to assess each encounter and to try and deduce subtle ways to prevent Sniper from...

...from...

He was still having lapses in memory, waking with only hazy recollections of being wrapped in a euphoria, touched and coddled. He never seemed harmed when he awoke, and some times on awakening he found himself gripped with a bizarre sense of longing and need, coupled with disappointment if Sniper was not in the room with him.

Pretending...pretending so well...needing and wanting - appearing to give in was less painful than fighting. Should he be ashamed if he found some moments...enjoyable?

He wished he could just remember why he felt as he did when he woke some times.

_Keep pretending...tell yourself something long enough and you'll believe it..._

The little whispers kept going in his ears, drawing his attention and focus. What were they saying...

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

This time when Medic came to the feeling of euphoria was gone, replaced instead by a persistent ache in his side - the left side, specifically - and as he was secured to the floor by his waist again he could even curl up to try and relieve or assess what was plaguing him.

Along with the pain in his side his neck was stiffening, throbbing in such a manner that his head was killing him from the base of his neck to the crown of his head, and through what felt like his nasal cavities and the roof of his mouth.

He quickened little gasp of pain must have been louder than he'd thought because Sniper was beside him in an instant.

"Something wrong, mate?"

"I...pain..." Medic panted, squeezing his eyes shut as he gulped in half a breath.

"Where?"

"S-side, and-" he couldn't complete the sentence as the ache in his side suddenly exploded into a sharp, stabbing pain.

To his surprise Sniper released him from the floor, moved his arms out of the way, and rolled him onto his right side, gently massaging exactly where the stabbing pain was; any instinct to jerk away from the man was quelled by the slight relief brought on from the kneading fingertips, and as his breathing stopped hitching Medic pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth in a futile effort to find some way to relieve the pain there. 

From behind him Medic heard a wet belching noise a moment before something hot and sticky poured onto his hip and oozed down his stomach. Sniper's free hand dipped into the vomited sludge and scooped it back up and began to massage into the skin on Medic's side. Medic didn't move to protest until that green-smeared hand came for his face, sending him pulling away and turning his head.

Sniper grabbed him by the chin, his fingers slipping and allowing Medic to yank free.

"S-stop, don't-"

Rather than make another try for his chin Sniper tangled his fingers into his hair; Medic heard a second bubbling, retching noise a fraction of a second before more of the green sludge hit him in the side of the head, dripping down his cheek to his chin and across his lips as well as going down the back of his head and soaking into the hair behind his ear.

Again Sniper used his free hand to coat Medic in the sludge, then wiped his mouth up his sleeve. "It's all right mate...it'll be all right, just let it happen."

"L-look at me," Medic found himself whispering, his voice strained. His eyes were still squeezed shut, and the slude was leaking into his mouth as he spoke, but he couldn't- "Look...look at me..."

Sniper raised an eyebrow at that, a smile working its way across his face. "You want me to look at you?"

"P-please, it's-"

"It'll stop hurting if you give the sludge time to sink in, I prom-"

"-LOOK AT ME!" Medic found himself shrieking, head whipping around. That euphoria, that pleasant and mindless numbness, he needed it-

Sniper placed a gentle hand on either side of his head, his eyes going wide and dark. Medic let out a little sob of relief, almost willing himself into the effect, his pain fading-

The pain and panic came rushing back as Sniper suddenly broke eye contact, his body tensing as he spun around. Through the agony wracking him Medic could feel and hear pounding feet on the floor, could hear shouts and Sniper snarling and the sound of guns firing.

Over it all, a voice cut through: "Retrieve Hartmann, this has gone on long enough."

Sniper was not near him now, the wall Medic faced was suddenly full of bullet holes, splattered with blood. Gloved hands roughly hauled the German to his feet, and as he writhed and sobbed, the toes of his boots dragged over something limp in the floor.

"Quickly, sedate him!"

Multiple little pinpricks, hardly even noticeable or comparable to the rest of it, and an entirely different kind of numbing sensation began to spread through Medic's body, battling against the pain.

Whoever was carrying him adjusted their grip, sliding hands under his armpits, leaving his head to fall limp and hang. His boots, he noticed, had blood on the toes and he was leaving a trail. Where was Sniper? Who were these men?

This was not...right...

"Sniper...please...."


	8. Chapter 8

His world was light and darkness - searing, blinding, or as black as a void, there was no in-between. His head felt packed with cotton, his body wracked with pain and need, and there was an indistinct panic within him that he couldn't understand no matter how hard he tried.

The pain eventually subsided and when Medic realized it was gone it was similar to that feeling of immense relief that came when one took a breath after being held underwater for a prolonged period of time - his body had been screaming for release as lungs would scream for air, and now it was here and it was...indescribable.

And blurry...or...seeing the world through a - a dirty window? No...no, more like a camera lens smeared with petroleum jelly - he couldn't make sense of what he was seeing just yet, but it all had a blurred, hazy halo around it with the additional strange feeling of the world being slightly curved. 

For some time Medic simply lay and bit by bit became aware of himself again, recognizing the sensation of pressure on his back, on his arms and legs, trying to understand what he was feeling and seeing.

Then, as though someone had simply flipped a switch in his mind, a small measure of clarity returned.

The hazy halo around things persisted but he suddenly realized what he was looking at, and why everything seemed either entirely too bright or too dark: he was flat on his back, his arms and legs strapped down, staring up at a ceiling that seemed to be made up of lights - and they were so bright that the simple act of turning his head, it was almost like night and day.

The longer he focused the more he understood of his surroundings and the more he noticed - there was a glass ceiling between where he was and the lights above him, there was the hint of movement out beyond where everything turned into a washed out blurry mess, there was a hard surface beneath his body that was rough and coarse to the touch, and strong bindings held him down at the wrists, elbows, waist, and knees.

When Medic realized he was bound his first hopeful thought was Sniper would appear and explain, would make the world make sense again - he had promised to take care of him, but time passed and yet, he didn't come. He didn't come, but strangers did; strangers with glowing eyes that poked and prodded at him, sticking him with needles and placing hard, smooth objects into his mouth and shining tiny lights into his eyes that seared through his head and blinded him physically and with pain.

It was during one of these sessions with the strangers that he realized what was going on and where he was; it came crashing over him with a suddenness and in a jumble that took a moment to parse properly: Sniper having captured and drugged him, the feeling of his feet dragging over something limp and unresponsive in the floor, the vivid memory of blood trailing from the toes of his boots and strong arms under his own with echoes of gunshots in his ears.

And a voice. "Retrieve Hartmann, this has gone on long enough."

His captivity had ended. He'd been...he'd been rescued.

But where was...

Sniper wasn't dead. He wasn't. Medic could feel him - he was somewhere near, but his presence was cold, lethargic, a chilled spot in the back of the German's mind marking where the mental bond between them had been forged.

He wasn't dead...but he wasn't here.

Medic blinked blearily, trying to clear his vision as he focused his gaze on the faces above him.

They were lit from behind by the merciless lights above, their faces mostly hidden in their glare, but their eyes - pinpoints of light in an otherwise shadowy face, the haze in his eyesight turning them into smears of illuminated orbs. They stung a bit to look at directly, and there was a stirring in the muscles of Medic's eyes, similar to a twinge or spasm, but he did not know exactly what it meant or how to make the sensation stop. He settled on glancing down to the crook of his left elbow as he felt the pinch of a needle sliding in, the man holding it drawing out a few vials of blood.

"What are you doing?" His voice was thick, slurred, he couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken.

The man holding the needle jerked back and Medic let out a little huff of air through his nose as the needle pulled free with the motion.

'Scared of me, this man is scared of me.'

'He should be.'

Medic inhaled and lifted his head - there were four others, men and women holding clipboards and watching the man draw the blood. They wore lab coats and re-breather masks, their eyes glinting behind thick glasses. Suddenly the glass ceiling above made sense, as did the voice - it hadn't seemed familiar at the time but replaying it now in his mind it was unmistakable: Cleward had found him, and brought him back...and now Sniper's prison was his own.

They feared him, the same as they had feared Sniper; Medic did not recognize those who clustered around him, and he had to wonder if that was on purpose - that Cleward had made certain that the people who entered this enclosure did not know who he was so there would be no awkward questions or connections.

"Tell...tell Dr. Cleward..." Medic started, then had to pause and swallow a few times to work some moisture into his mouth. "Tell him I am awake...full control of mental facilities..."

None of them replied but they finished their business and left in a hurry, five vials of Medic's blood in hand.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Medic marked the days by his sleep cycle.

The same cluster of scientists kept coming in to draw blood or take his vitals, or administer drugs with their ever-present needles...they never spoke and they gave no hint as to what they were doing with his blood or what chemicals they were administering. At first he had found this worrisome but now, with time to adjust, the German was acutely aware of changes that had held him in their grip since the pain had first flared up there in the old farmhouse.

His self-education began with the sores: pressure sores had been forming where he was tied down, and all across his shoulders and the backs of his thighs - flat on his back for days with no change, not even permitted to relieve himself (Medic was aware of the catheter they had put in, though he had felt no need to defecate since coming to his senses so he wasn't certain how that bodily function was being handled) and yet they were not a problem, nor were the drugs they were pumping into his system.

There was no true explanation for the abrupt instinct that had taken hold two days ago, but he knew now - on his left side there was a new organ. It's only function was to produce the wet oatmeal-like slop that Sniper had vomited onto him so many times before - the substance that had repaired his eyes, had eased his pain. During one of the rare moments when Medic was alone within his enclosure he had drawn up a mouthful of the sludge out of the organ and had swallowed it, sighing in relief as it coursed through him and, with some time, closed the pressure sores and even eased the never-ending headache brought on from the lights above, not to mention wiping away the dazed feeling some of those drugs brought on. Knowing that he was safe from any drug-induced complications brought a needed measure of comfort, and also the realization that he had to keep that particular "talent" a secret from his captors for as long as possible - at all costs, if he must. Under no circumstances could they gain control over him or else there would be no hope at reuniting with Sniper and building the pack.

Ah, the pack...

The pack would be formed, yes...Medic ran his tongue against the tips of his canines - they had grown longer, thinner, and the gums had drawn back giving the illusion of length as well. He could feel the tiny holes and, if he focused, could feel the network of venom sacks that had grown in beneath his tongue and along his spine from the base of his neck to his shoulder blades...they were not very large sacs so it was little wonder Sniper had had to bite him so many times to get the proper amount into his system to prompt the changes. If they wanted to grow the pack with any sort of speed they would need to account for the volume of venom they could produce and how long it would take...perhaps if they both bit the same person, but then what were the properties of the venom? They would not want to kill their prospective pack member on acc-

"Mr. Hartmann."

Medic slowly turned his head to see Cleward, flanked on either side by armed guards, standing a respectable - or...safe... - distance away; he had been so lost in thought he had not been listening for visitors, and at the sight of Cleward he felt a surge of anger. This was the man who was the source of the poking and prodding, who had somehow captured Sniper and kept him as a medical oddity and science project, had inflicted who knew what kind of torture and harm to the alpha and now...now he had Medic and could begin the cycle anew.

Medic kept his expression somewhere between neutral and relieved. "Dr. Cleward. I was wondering if I would get the chance to speak to you."

"Yes, well..." Cleward fidgeted, trying to adjust his classes through the mask he wore. "I have been occupied." Cleward's eyes were glowing in Medic's sight and the twitches behind his own orbs started up; he squinted them shut for a moment, willing the spasms to stop. 

Seconds later Medic opened his eyes and his mouth to reply, then immediately bit back the words as a commotion near the enclosure's door drew his gaze, eyes widening a bit in surprise as Ellen shoved her way passed the small cluster of people around the door and entered the enclosure, slamming the door behind her.

"Damn it Cleward, I told you to let me know when he was conscious again-"

"Ellen, you are out of line," Cleward interrupted sharply, all fidgeting gone in an instant as he turned to face her.

Ellen marched up to him, glaring icily for a moment or two, then turned her attention to Medic, expression softening as she took in his appearance. "...how are you feeling, Peter?"

Peter...all at once he recalled the invitations to dinner and the shared lunches, the friendliness, the insistence on calling him by his first name. 

He gave her what he hoped was a convincing enough smile, tamping down further on his thoughts regarding Cleward. "A bit stiff, to be honest, but aware and in control. How long has it been?"

She glanced at Cleward and he made an impatient 'well, go on then' gesture at her, huffing out a sigh. "About a month...you've been mostly unconscious the entire time, most of it purposely induced to control your pain levels."

"I see. Now that I am awake will I be released from the restraints? I feel the beginning stages of sores forming." He paused for effect, then looked at Cleward. "You...have been moving me to slow their formation, I hope."

Ellen again turned an icy look on Cleward. "Yes, Dr. Cleward, I hope so as well."

"Where possible," Cleward answered after a pause. "You are restrained because of muscle activity and at times it has not been safe to move or even approach you."

Medic looked between Ellen and Cleward, thinking...it would seem there were beginnings of a power struggle for Medic's sake. How...interesting, and thought-provoking. Ellen's attachment to him had seemed innocent enough, starting when she'd been assigned to acclimate him to the facility but continuing afterward, skirting close to flirtatious but never touching or crossing that line. Maybe it hadn't been affection after all but a political move - she'd often spoken her mind about Cleward and his policies and practices...

Mmm, the proper amount of ambition with disguised empathy...yes...

'Here is my opening. She will be key in setting me free...I must appear as human and normal as possible and tug at those foolish strings of sympathy.'

Medic averted his gaze, blinking as the lights stabbed at him and made his eyes water - he really needed to avoid looking up toward those lights as much as possible - and allowed a few breaths to pass before he spoke again. "I see...did I hurt anyone?"

"A few bruises, nothing major," Cleward said slowly. "But you understand why we could not risk a larger accident."

"No, no, I understand," Medic responded quickly. "I am not angry, and I am relieved to hear I did not seriously hurt anyone, but if I could have the restraints removed at least long enough to stretch and shift positions-"

"-I don't think it should be a problem, Dr. Cleward," Ellen broke in. "It shouldn't have been a problem in the first place."

"Ellen..." Cleward growled, then inhaled and exhaled slowly. "...is correct," he added after a pause, the words almost growled through gritted teeth. "There shouldn't be a problem in allowing him a bit of time to stretch his legs."

Medic hid his grin by craning his neck upward to stare down the length of his body. He appeared to be wearing the same style of white boxers that Sniper had worn during his time here, and he could see a few tubes snaking their way up his thigh to disappear under the fabric - there was the tubing for the catheter, the collection bag must be out of his sight somewhere near the floor.

"If there's nothing else you need, Dr. Cleward, I'll be happy to oversee Peter's stretching session," Ellen said coolly into the silence.

Her shadow fell over him as she moved over to rest a hand gently on the restraint that held his right arm down; he smiled up at her, the perfect picture of gratitude and patience as they awaited Cleward's reply, though quietly he was relieved at the reduction in the light level that her shadow brought.

"By all means...we'll be outside observing if you need assistance," Cleward responded, his tone sour.

Ellen waited for Cleward and the armed guards to leave, then exhaled noisily and leaned over him, eyes roaming over him as her fingers began working the buckle and strap loose from his right arm. "...I'm very sorry this happened, Peter."

The fuzzy halo everything had wasn't so pronounced this close and in this light, and her eyes burned brightly, leaving him with the desire, the _need_ to meet her gaze, the-

The muscles of his eyes spasmed, and as they briefly locked gazes he suddenly knew what they meant; he relaxed and allowed them to twitch and pull his pupils open wide as he stared into her eyes.

There was the immediate feeling of searing pain as both the light level and the points of light that were her own eyes intensified but with it came a surge of...power, the knowledge that, now? She belonged to him for as long as he could hold that gaze. With that thought in mind the pain became more of a pleasure, a giddiness and a quiet satisfaction.

He made the mental note that opening his eyes and setting his hypnotic gaze loose greatly increased his light sensitivity but he would consider that later.

_"Have no worries, Ellen,"_ he whispered, watching her chest expand as she sucked in a deep breath and held it, transfixed. _"I am fine - there is no need to worry about me attacking or harming anyone. I'm perfectly fine, and in control. Please continue to release me."_

Her hands kept moving, her body on autopilot and leaving her to fumble for the restraint around his waist.

_"Cleward cannot be trusted, Ellen...I remember it very clearly, what he said when I was found,"_ the words rolled off his tongue, the idea coming to him almost as fast as he could speak it. _"He knew where I was the entire time...he allowed Sniper to take me. He knew - you have suspected this all along, haven't you? It makes sense."_

She nodded woodenly and Medic felt the restraint around his waist loosen. How long had he been holding her gaze? Had they been noticed?

He paused to listen...no one seemed to be entering, but he didn't dare turn his head to see if they were watching closely. He needed to end this quickly, there would be other times to...expand upon the suggestions.

_"Be careful around him...you saw nothing out of the ordinary."_

He broke off his gaze and Ellen sucked in a breath, swaying a bit and blinking. As she recovered Medic took the time to think over what he'd said - Cleward's words (and it had to have been him, that voice had been so familiar) were clear in Medic's recollection of his rescue: "This has gone on long enough."

Taken a certain way...that could imply that he did indeed know where the German was being held captive. It may or may not be true, but-

Medic could turn this to his advantage, cast doubt on Cleward's integrity. If enough believed that Cleward had allowed the kidnapping and torture to happen, just to gain another test subject...if this was any sort of upstanding corporation, the fallout would be delightfully swift and potentially result in a situation where Medic could...

...could escape...and...

A slow smile crept its way across his face as a plan began to form, pieces falling into place.

Plant the seed of doubt and sow dissension, apply gentle pressure to Ellen to get the political environment volatile and have Cleward removed from the picture, then manipulate and maneuver his way to freedom. Once free he could find some way to retrieve Sniper - oh certainly, he doubted he could stumble into the exact set of circumstances needed to retrieve Sniper himself, but...

Medic knew exactly the man with the correct set of skills needed to slip in and out of heavily guarded places, silent and unseen. And then their pack would be a group of three.


	9. Chapter 9

He was polite, cordial, assisting in his own care now that he was free of the restraints, he was even keeping a journal detailing the bodily changes.

And by God...it was pathetic how easy it was to manipulate without even resorting to his new-found abilities.

His guess regarding Ellen seemed to be spot on - she was clearly playing at politics, gently getting under Cleward's skin at every opportunity and being so incredibly kind to Medic when Cleward was around or if she knew she was being observed (which there was hardly a moment when someone wasn't directly watching Medic within his little cage). If he wasn't doing his best to act and appear as human as possible he would have openly mocked the entire charade...but no, he had to behave, had to be smart and use this to his advantage.

Medic had used his gaze on Ellen only once more, gently prompting her to fabricate whatever she had to to build a solid case against Cleward and get Medic removed from his care and watch. After that he had simply...sat back and watched with carefully hidden glee as she busily went about doing exactly as he desired.

Why had he ever fought against this gift...

As the days dragged on however Medic found himself restless; they hadn't tried to restrain him again and they didn't bother him overmuch so long as he stayed docile and endearing, so often he found himself pacing from the frustration and boredom, and it didn't help matters that he still did not know where exactly Sniper was.

He could still sense him, knew that he wasn't dead but...Sniper was such a chilled, unresponsive presence now, growing colder by the day. He wasn't clear how this mental bond was supposed to function or what it could do, all it seemed capable of was letting him know where Sniper was and that he was still alive...a thought both reassuring and also strangely enraging. Sniper should be HERE, with HIM, not - not this cold and distant presence, not absent. He was supposed to be here and taking care of Medic, and he wasn't...it was akin to being abandoned and coupled with the boredom it made Medic wonder if this was what it was like to feel oneself slowly going insane as he swung between being angry at Sniper for leaving him and needing the man desperately.

It was one such afternoon of pacing that led Medic to lean against the wall and stare off into the darkest corner of the room, arms above his head to bring a bit of relief from the ever-glaring lights above him. "You damned fool...how dare you do this to me..."

"Are you all right, Peter?"

Medic flinched and carefully turned - he hadn't even heard Ellen enter the cube - and managed a forced smile. "Ah, yes - apologies, when bored my mind tends to wander."

She gave him a sympathetic (yet wholly fake) smile, clasping her hands behind her back. "Mmm...I'm sorry, you know. For all of this - your friend, you being here. I wish things had turned out for the better, especially for Mr. Mundy."

Medic dropped his gaze to the floor, more to alleviate the stabbing pain of the lights than to actually convey any sort of emotion. "Yes, well, it is never easy to mourn the passing of a comrade. I prefer to think of him as the man I knew, not the man who tormented me...at any rate, what brings you here this afternoon?"

"I find it interesting you're more fixated on what happened to Mr. Mundy than you are on what's happening to you," Ellen chuckled, rocking back and forth from the balls of her feet to her heels. "I mean, I know it can't be easy right now, but-"

"-what has happened to me hasn't changed me much," Medic interrupted. "...well, beyond the obvious physical changes," he added after a moment.

His fingernails were growing thicker, longer, and darkening, he was taking on the same dark-olive-tone to his skin that Sniper had possessed, his canine teeth were long and hollow, and the whites of his eyes were slowly fading to a yellowish color. He could remember Sniper mentioning that he fought the changes, tried to keep them hidden, but for the life of him Medic couldn't figure out how he might have managed that.

"I do not feel sick," Medic went on, pausing to look at his discolored nails. "I do not have the sweats or pains Mundy was afflicted with, I am not confused or addled in any manner. I am the same man."

Mmmm...now that he thought about it, perhaps the sweats and pains were from Sniper fighting to keep the changes hidden. Fascinating to contemplate.

Again Ellen gave him a convincingly fake smile. "I believe you, but that doesn't mean everyone else does - at least no one here, but..." Her volume dropped and that fake smile gave way to one that was genuine, and genuinely smug. "I've been making headway in my little research project, and I've been in touch with corporate about it."

"Yes?" Medic prompted, feeling a twist of anticipation in his stomach.

"Well, it seems Cleward has been altering a lot of his research results," Ellen went on, still quiet. "In fact, it all looks like he really wasn't trying to help Mr. Mundy at all...corporate was also completely in the dark about his presence here, AND yours - it was quite the interesting phone call. I think Cleward's even been falsifying what tests he's been conducting."

Medic tamped down on the surge of satisfied glee and twisted it into a look of exasperated amusement. "Then what in heaven's name has he been doing with all my blood..."

Come on...come on...

"I'm compiling my report and will be faxing it within the next few days, but I'm thinking it won't be any issue to secure permission to move you to our sister facility in Seattle. So help me I'm getting you out of here and away from Cleward even if I have to drive the van myself."

At that the German allowed himself to smile. "I appreciate your efforts...oh, and what of Mundy's remains? I wish to see them treated with care and respect."

"Corporate already remotely accessed our systems and changed the coding on the doors, he's safely out of Cleward's hands for now unless he breaks the freezer door down."

Freezer...that would explain why Sniper was so unresponsive. "I...see. He will not be taken with us?"

"I don't know, we'd have to equip a truck or a van with a deep freeze to keep him uh-" she paused, giving him a bit of an uncomfortable, almost sheepish smile "-fresh? He's been in the specimen freezer since you were both retrieved, we don't have the means of transporting him right now, and until we're ready to give him a- a proper burial, I wouldn't want to thaw him out."

No, no no no... "Surely you can make certain he is transported away as well? I do not care for the thought of him being left behind."

"I'll do what I can but my priority is you."

'Yes, I bet it is, you ambitious swine,' Medic found himself thinking bitterly. He would certainly need Spy now...well, one step at a time, he first needed to be in a position where he COULD locate Spy and 'convince' him to help.

He took a deep breath and swallowed down the disappointment and anger (at least now he knew where Sniper was, in a way, and why the man's presence in his mind was so unresponsive) and gave Ellen a weak smile. "I suppose I'm in no position to make demands, but I wish for you to know that I'm grateful for all you've done."

She nodded and turned to go with a cheerful "off to finish up!" and Medic found himself pacing again once he was alone.

He would be moved...there would be opportunity for escape in the near future. That gave him hope, and though it killed him to think of Sniper being left behind he had to keep focusing on...on escaping, on finding Spy and sending the man in after Sniper. There wasn't a building in existence that could keep that man in or out - Spy would retrieve Sniper, and then there would be three.

Medic had to keep repeating that thought to himself as he settled onto his cot.

Soon there would be three...Medic, Spy, and...and useless, weak...Sniper...

\--------------------------------------------------------

He was awakened early on the morning of his move, Ellen entering the enclosure with six men with her - all armed - and offered him a containment suit; it was plastic and heavy, came with its own air supply, and made him feel more than a bit foolish as he struggled into it with minimal offered help from the others observing him.

"This is just to get you out to the van," Ellen had belatedly explained when Medic questioned exactly how much air was attached to this suit. "Protocol has to be followed when there's cameras on us, but once we get on the road and away from prying eyes we can get you out of that. Everyone going with us knows this is overkill and that just breathing the same air as you won't have them catching anything."

Medic rapped his knuckles against the clear face-plate of the suit's helmet. "That is good to hear, traveling for long in this sounds very uncomfortable."

They cuffed his hands behind his back and then two of the men took him gently by the arms to escort him through the hallways; stepping out into sunlight for the first time in weeks was a godsend even if the light made his eyes burn. One step closer to freedom, yes...

There was an armored vehicle awaiting them a short distance from the door and Medic was helped up into the back; inside mounted near the vehicle's ceiling were glass-front cabinets full of miscellaneous medical supplies, and two benches down either side with one having been altered to hold a padded body board with straps - all in all it brought to mind an ambulance, and Medic had a moment of hesitation when he saw the straps.

"You - I will not be restrained again, will I?"

"I'm not riding back here without you tied down, buddy," one of the armed men said, his voice muffled through the re-breather mask he still wore.

"I'm not going to hurt anyone, I merely get motion sick on very long trips," Medic went on, the lie coming to him with ease even though his mind was racing on the complications that being restrained would bring. "If I am restrained flat on my back I will make a mess and even risk asphyxiating."

"There were only so many allowances corporate was willing to make," Ellen broke in hurriedly. "I'm sorry, Peter - let them know if you're feeling queasy and we can stop to give you time to recover."

The armed man who had spoken stepped into the back with him, along with one other, and then the doors were closed and locked - from the outside, no less. Medic gave the two men an appraising look; they both carried heavy revolvers, wore body armor, and still wore the re-breather masks. Their eyes burned brightly in their faces though...patience, patience...

The man who'd first spoken up moved to take the cuffs off. "You may take the suit off now - go slow," he warned.

Medic managed to shrug himself out of the containment suit and as one man helped him stretch out on the body board and strapped him down the other folded up the suit and stuffed it under the bench; the two men then took their seats, one at the end of the bench nearest the door and the other at the bench nearest the vehicle's cab (and Medic's head). 

The one nearest the cab knocked sharply against the wall and after a pause the vehicle rumbled to life and they were in motion.

The padding beneath him was thin and Medic could feel the body board pressing in against his back; he was not certain on how long it would take to drive from here to Seattle, but he needed to let a decent amount of time pass before he attempted escape...

The only way to mark time passing was the feeling of Sniper growing more distant in his mind - the further they went the less distinct his presence became. When he could no longer sense Sniper at all, he turned his head and locked gazes with the man nearest him.

_"Excuse me..."_

\--------------------------------------------------

Ellen rode in the passenger seat of the van, combing fingers through her hair and trying to contain her anxiety and excitement.

Cleward's ass was on the line, his entire career in jeopardy. She'd been waiting for this chance for over a year now - he'd disliked her from the moment they'd met and had sent her off to the lab and blocked any attempt on hers to pursue any real sort of research, dogging her at every step and doing his best to quietly sabotage her career.

'Who's laughing now, you fat coward?' she thought to herself smugly.

His mistreatment of that Mundy person was clear, nothing had to be faked there, but all those test results he kept so close to his heart - his absolute need to control who learned what and when regarding any of his projects - had been so simple to falsify and replace. Who would know they weren't legitimate? Cleward's own habit of purposely withholding information was now coming back to bite him in his very pompous ass.

Attaching herself to Hartmann had been a good move, and it was deeply satisfying that Cleward himself had relegated her to tour guide duty.

'I bet you enjoyed that. I bet you enjoyed every minute of it, I bet you waddled off to your office to make a laundry list of other menial tasks to give me that you absolutely crowed over.'

It was surprising how well all the pieces had fallen together - in fact, that it had been so easy had her anxious, hands shaking and everything. She began focusing on her breathing: in, out, slow and steady, and it wasn't until six loud shots from the back of the van woke her that she realized she'd lulled herself into a nap.

"Pull over, now!" she spat sharply, the driver obeying and stopping so quickly the seat belts locked briefly.

Seconds later they were both out and rushing to the back of the van, the driver instructing her to open the back and then get to the side as he drew his gun. Her hands were again shaking as she slid the key into the lock, turned it, then tore the door open and dove to the side.

There was a shout and then a tumble of bodies fell from the back of the van onto the driver, his gun going off twice even as they collapsed into a heap; an instant later there was a third shot and the pile of men went still and remained that way.

And then, silence.

From where she crouched in the grass next to the rear wheel well, she could see the pile of dead men - all three of them, gone. Had the two in the back been...how had the two in the back been-

Six shots, but-

There was a rustle as a pair of bare feet dropped into view, visible up to the knee from where she huddled; moments later there was the metallic thud of a discarded revolver dropping to the ground beside those feet.

Heart pounding in her chest and her breath catching in her throat, Ellen began to madly scramble backward on her hands and heels as those feet calmly stepped around the open rear door and Medic stepped into view. He had blood splatters across his face and large smears down his chest and arms, but most chilling was the absolute calm on his face as he stared down his nose at her scrabbling about in the grass.

Her voice was barely a whisper. "Peter..."

She froze as he grabbed her with his gaze, his eyes immediately beginning to water as they were assaulted by the sunlight above as well as the piercing illumination from Ellen's eyes.

_"Stay where you are...you have been very useful to me, Ellen. Were I not pressed for time, or perhaps in a better position, I would take you with me and make you matriarch of the pack...I am certain Sniper would greatly enjoy waking to find a mate waiting on him."_

She didn't so much as make a sound as he moved to kneel in front of her and gently brush a strand of hair from her forehead. It really was unfortunate he had to kill her but he could not take the time it would require to convert her properly, nor could he risk her escaping and alerting others to his plans.

He grabbed her shoulders and brought her in close, nosing around her neck and taking in her scent - yes, Sniper would have enjoyed a queen...but the German had to attend to other priorities first. He bared his fangs and sank them into the woman's neck, but instead of opening his venom reservoirs he bit down and ripped free a mouthful of meat; Ellen seized up with a cry as he chewed and went in again, ripping and swallowing until he'd reached vertebrae and was coated in warm, sticky, and utterly delicious blood.

It brought to mind the rabbit Sniper had fed him, but compared to this...no, there was no comparison. This was something delectable, beyond anything he'd tasted before, and despite his pressing need to not be found, to get away and set into motion Sniper's retrieval he found his head dipping to let him lap at the meat and blood before eyeing Ellen further down. Her breasts did not interest him in the slightest (breasts were fat and he desired something more substantial) but his attention fell on her biceps, then traced down to her stomach and the thighs...

Some time later, sated and exulting in the feeling of hot blood and muscle in his belly, the memory of the texture of human flesh on his tongue, Medic rolled the bodies of the guards into the ditch atop Ellen's remains, then slammed the van's rear doors shut and climbed into the driver's seat.

He had stripped one of the guards of his clothing and had taken everything useful off the others but knew he needed to find alternative transportation as well as clothing that was not bloodied; as he adjusted the rear-view mirror and took in the hazy appearance of his yellowed eyes he added a pair of sunglasses to his shopping list.

They had still been traveling the back roads so there was no traffic to be concerned with as Medic took his time turning the ponderous van around to head back the way they'd come until he came to an intersection and took a right; he had no idea where in Montana he was but he'd come across someone eventually who would surely be willing to...give him a ride to his next destination.

If they were lucky he wouldn't be hungry by then.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Medic found himself thankful that the cross-country trip from middle-of-nowhere, Montana, to Boston had taken quite a number of weeks of careful travel as it took him almost the entire trip to recall what Scout's actual name had been; they had never been one to refer to each other by their given names, both out of a sense of security and paranoia, but Medic had been in the unique position of knowing each of his team mate's legal names due to having access to medical records in addition to those times where they'd simply shared the information themselves (Tavish came to mind, but he was not a priority right now).

He did not know the name of Scout's mother but he knew Spy was...exceptionally fond of her, and if he could locate Scout and his parent, he would have a lead on where to find the elusive Frenchman; he risked a trip into one of the local libraries to peruse a phone book and copy down addresses of everyone who shared a last name with Scout, then had set out to quietly observe who came and went at each address. A week later and he found himself waiting for nightfall outside of an immaculate apartment building, uncertain if his target was home but not wanting to be seen by too many passers by (or be blinded by the God-forsaken sunlight).

Soon enough he was climbing to the fourth floor, moving down a hallway to a door that was a cheerful bright red with a brass placard labeling it as apartment 403 nailed to just beneath the little round dot of a peephole.

The lighting in here was at least muted, a soft yellow light that wasn't agonizing to him; he tugged his "borrowed" hat down lower over his face until it touched the rims of the dark glasses he wore - at least here he'd gone mostly unnoticed in his long coat and hat; to those who didn't look too closely he had been just a man in a coat with a briefcase, going about his business hunched against the wind.

He knocked politely and waited, hoping he would not have to risk waiting in the hall for her to return home, but then the door opened a crack - just enough for him to see an eye peering at him, a slender hand with delicate fingers curling around the door's edge, and a gold chain to prevent the door from being forced open.

"Yes?"

Medic glanced up and down the hall - still deserted, good. "Yes, good evening - do not be alarmed, but I am an old coworker of your son. We called him...Scout. I am not sure how much you may have known about that time."

She was silent a moment. "...I know what he was doing, mister. What do you want?"

Now it was Medic's turn to be silent, thinking - did he want to grab her with his gaze now and risk someone coming upon him in the hall? That would not be ideal...

He leaned closer to the door and carefully lowered the glasses from his eyes, watching her recoil from the sight of him: yellow eyes, darkened green skin around them made even darker from fatigue.

"Do not be alarmed, but I need to speak to him about-" he paused a moment. About what...? "...about a sickness he must be made aware of, and I do not know how to contact him. May I come in?"

\----------------------------------------------

He materialized like a ghost from thin air outside the door, his key sliding soundlessly into the lock and turning it and the doorknob together with one hand, his other gripping the pistol in hand.

'Don't panic,' she'd said. 'Just come home as soon as you can,' she'd said. 'It's nothing to worry about.'

Marianne never called him like this. Never. Something was wrong.

Spy sucked in a silent breath and pushed the door open a few inches, noting that the chain was not across it as usual, his eyes narrowing and ears straining to hear something, anything, from within the apartment that would hint at what he was about to step into.

He could hear the quiet sound of a radio playing in the living room just beyond the door - Marianne liked to listen to it as she embroidered, it was even on the correct station from what he could hear. There was no other noise: to his ears all seemed like a normal, quiet evening at home.

Spy exhaled slowly, then threw the door open and hit his cloak in the same instant, his pistol snapping out in front of him and his gaze roaming the room seeking a threat that his instincts told him was here, somewhere, but where-

Marianne's chair was backwards, facing into the kitchen rather than out into the living room. From where he stood Spy could see one of her hands dangling off the armrest; oh God, no, not-

He moved across the room, quickly but without a sound, and came around to find the woman sitting slumped in the chair, her head propped up in her other hand that was in turn propped up on the armrest - there was a band of some sort of white substance keeping her upright in the chair. She appeared unhurt, merely...sleeping, but-

The door softly clicked as it was shut, and over the back of the chair Spy could see-

"I know you are here, Spy," Medic called into the room, sliding the chain into place across the door then turning the lock. "Far be it from me to barge into one's private life, but I require your assistance."

"You..."

Medic smiled at the seemingly disembodied voice coming from near the woman's chair. "It has been some time, old friend."

"What have you done to her?" the Frenchman growled, allowing his cloak to fall away to reveal that he now stood with his pistol leveled squarely at the good doctor's chest...if that even WAS the man he once knew - it sounded like him, and his features were the same if a bit older, but his skin, his eyes...what the hell was he looking at?

Medic held up his hands. "If you give me a moment, my friend...I can explain."

Even from here Spy could see the man's pupils widening, and quite suddenly he found himself fixated on the man's eyes.

As the pistol's muzzle wavered in the man's grasp Medic smiled; that had been far easier than anticipated - Spy was a man who lived his life wrapped in lies and he was always one to avoid eye contact even when telling the truth...here Medic had planned on having to delicately talk his way close enough to ensnare the man but apparently he was just as potent at a distance. Carefully the German crossed the room, being mindful not to trip over the throw rug or coffee table, and reached to remove the weapon from Spy's slack fingers.

Even now he wore his trademark mask; he seemed to have forgone his usual suit, instead only in a dress shirt and slacks but there was no telling where he'd rushed here from, and at least the lack of the suit made it easier for Medic to slip his fingers under the mask's edges and lift it from his face, gently smoothing the man's hair down before letting the garment drop to the floor.

 _"I have a task for you...do well, and you'll be rewarded,"_ he whispered, smiling as Spy shivered and hung on to his every word.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

When Spy had departed Medic spared the woman in the chair a cursory glance - she was still feigning sleep, just as he'd told her to, but she'd be "waking" soon and he would need her to remain quiet for the duration of his stay here...he briefly entertained the thought of killing her outright but depending on how long it took Spy to get across the country, retrieve Sniper, then get back here-

Well, her disappearance would certainly be noticed anyway, as he had no intention of allowing her to come and go and he wasn't willing to risk her revealing his presence here even if he explicitly ordered her not to share that information, but if he killed her he would then have to worry about her remains beginning to smell and he knew he couldn't devour every scrap of her fast enough to prevent that.

Besides...even if he could, that wouldn't leave anything left for his little side project...

After taking the time to cocoon the woman in webbing he left her to wake on her own and calmly strode through the kitchen and into a short hallway to led to the bedrooms - two modestly sized rooms, one clearly belonging to the woman he'd just wrapped up and the other most likely meant as a guest bedroom.

Fitting, as Medic was both a guest as well as entertaining one.

The woman had insisted on calling her son as well as Spy, leaving Medic mentally kicking himself for his little story at the door earlier - he wanted Spy, not Scout (at least, he didn't want Scout _yet_ ) but he couldn't come up with a believable reason to delay calling Scout quickly enough, so of course the younger man had arrived before the Frenchman.

Scout was stripped bare to the waist and secured, wrists and ankles, to the guest bed; when Medic appeared in the doorway the man's head whipped around to stare at him, his eyes wide with fear and his mouth gagged tightly with webbing.

"Oh Scout...how like the old days," he crooned, coming over to the bed, watching the man tremble. "You strapped to a table, looking up at me. At least this time I am not removing shrapnel, hmm? Does that not put your mind at ease?"

He watched Scout's Adam's apple bob as the younger man swallowed hard; with a quiet chuckle Medic ran fingers down Scout's chest to his navel, feeling how he shook under him - Scout was frightened, a far cry from the brash man Medic remembered, but then it was not every day Medic got to threaten someone into silence by threatening the person they cared about most.

"Now...as I said earlier," Medic went on, using the flat of his palm to gently rub Scout's stomach. "I will not harm your mother providing you remain silent and...willing. Are you still planning to obey like a good little boy?"

Scout nodded quickly, breathing heavily through his nose. Medic nodded too, satisfied with the level of fear being displayed - threatening Scout himself would not likely have gotten him anywhere, but leveraging the threat of killing his mother...it was a weakness, a point upon which even the briefest pressure had caused the man to crumble, and the sadistic part of him was oh so curious about how far he could push without needing to rely on his hypnotic gaze.

Medic lifted his hand to Scout's face and gently wiped the webbing away; Scout sucked in a breath and twisted his face from his fingers.

"What- what do you want, man? What do you want? Why you after my ma?"

"Shh, shh- remember our deal," Medic chided him, standing and moving over to the little dresser in the room. The briefcase he'd brought up with him was sitting there, open, its contents hidden from Scout's angle; neat little rows of glass vials full of a yellow fluid were carefully packed into the case, padded with the bloodstained shirt Medic had taken from the guard so long ago in Montana. 

It had been a long trip, and before abandoning the van Medic had taken an assortment of supplies from the cabinets in the back; he'd had plenty of time to contemplate the problem of venom volumes, seeing no natural means to speed up his production of it...so he'd simply been storing it, emptying himself at every opportunity into the vials, awaiting that time where he could see if concentrated doses - doses far larger than he could deliver in a single bite - would prove detrimental to the conversion process.

He carefully picked up a vial and a syringe from within the case, turning and finding Scout's eyes riveted on them.

"What is that, doc? What're you doing?"

"You are going to assist me with an experiment, my dear boy," Medic whispered, moving over to slide a leg across the male and straddle him. "And remember - no screaming, or I will kill your mother."


	10. Chapter 10

There had always been a thrill, a jolt of pleasure, that came with emptying his venom into the vials - had he not been alone he could have fully explored that feeling at his leisure, but the more pressing need to acquire Spy and retrieve Sniper had left him suppressing those sensations so he could drive with a clear head.

There was no reason to suppress it now, and Medic greatly, greatly enjoyed the feeling of the venom draining from him and into Scout, those times where he bit the male rather than using the syringes.

The bitter taste of his venom seemed to quickly evaporate from his tongue and leave behind the chilled feeling of having just ingested something with menthol in it, and Medic spent some time laying beside Scout as he writhed on the bed simply taking deep breaths in through his mouth to intensify the cold sensation; he was coming to realize that his senses seemed much more sensitive now than they had ever been when he was human, especially those of taste and touch. He had spent an entire day simply exploring Scout's body, reveling in the feeling of muscles moving beneath skin that was coated in sweat - sampling the saltiness of the sweat was another pleasure, both in the taste and in the feeling of dragging his tongue over the male's body that had the bonus of reminding him of the texture of the flesh and the coppery blood that was separated from him by only the thinnest layer of skin...

For the most part there seemed to be no true health hazards to increased doses of the venom - certainly, the constant presence of the venom had Scout in near-constant pain, but as for actually harming him in some manner that would require Medic's immediate attention...that sort of thing seemed to be absent, though Medic found it highly fascinating that the ever-present pain of the venom coursing through the man's system had rendered him confused, more susceptible to suggestion, and also craving physical stimulation in the vein of being stroked and petted. The German hadn't once had to resort to his gaze to keep Scout docile, and had even untethered him from the bed and simply kept the ankles and wrists bound as a precautionary measure.

This left Scout free to squirm and writhe about as he would on the bed, always in a semi-constant hunt for relief from the venom's sting; oftentimes all Medic needed to do was sit on the bed and the man would drag himself to him, begging in a befuddled manner for help and soothing. It was both pathetic and endearing and Medic was only too happy to oblige, finding exactly where he needed to stroke or massage to reduce Scout to a boneless, shivering pile, limp and whimpering until he'd arch beneath Medic's hands in a desperate bid to make the pain stop.

Being as he wasn't certain about the time it took for his own conversion Medic had no method by which to gauge or guess at how long it would take for Scout to change, which served only as an additional, looming question alongside wondering how long it would take Spy to return with Sniper's body. Medic found himself reversing his opinion on having acquired Scout before he'd been ready to do so; the memory of the mind-numbing boredom he'd suffered in the glass cube was still fresh in his mind and it was only now that he counted himself lucky to have Scout to keep him occupied, both in a physical manner as well as being a way for the German to satisfy his curiosity about his new-found abilities and condition.

It had been so long since Medic had had the chance to experiment, after all...

Even with the delightful distraction of Scout by the sixth day Medic found his mind wandering; Sniper's presence was still too far away for him to sense, and while Medic trusted in Spy's skills he was beginning to grow a bit restless and paranoid. The longer he remained here the more chances there would be for someone to notice either Scout's or his mother's disappearance, and should anyone come looking Medic found himself debating on how best to react - if it was only one person he could apply his gaze and be done with it, but multiple people showing up at once or close enough to catch him in the act...further disappearances would only compound the problem in the long run, and being outright caught and outed as something inhuman wouldn't help matters either.

But he couldn't leave, not until Sniper had been returned to him and Spy was in his possession.

On the eighth day Medic was awakened from his doze at Scout's side by the man suddenly seizing up with an agonized cry.

"Is something wrong, my boy?"

"G-god, god-god it-"

Medic pushed himself up on one elbow to raise up over Scout - the man had gone rigid, his face paling and back arched, tense like a drawn bowstring and breathing fast and shallow.

Ah...was this then...

With his mind burning in curiosity, Medic rose up and slid to straddle Scout, one hand moving to cup his cheek while the other slipped just inside the waistband of his pants to tease at his hipbone. "What is it, Scout? Do you hurt?"

"It hurts...it hurts so bad-"

And just like that the tension was gone and Scout began to writhe and thrash erratically, forcing Medic to rearrange himself atop the male to hold him down before he took both of them off the bed with his movements; Medic's pulse began to race, his spine tingling with anticipation - this was it, this had to be it: Scout was changing.

Even as he thought that and fought to hold the bucking male down he felt a stirring at the back of his mind, like someone boring into his head with an auger bit - it didn't hurt and wasn't all-together unpleasant but it was a strange feeling...akin to a vibration that was echoing through his skull and growing stronger as Medic watched, transfixed, as the faintest hint of the green skin discoloration began to blossom in slow motion on Scout's left side.

For now it seemed that sole little patch of green was all that would be appearing, and it wasn't even that dark (definitely not as dark and defined as Medic's markings were) but Medic's attention was immediately diverted from it to the sudden explosion of stars in his eyes - again there was no pain, but if before he had felt someone was boring into his head now it felt like someone had cracked the back of his head open and light was pouring in. He let out an involuntary groan, leaning back and staring at the ceiling with sightless eyes as his vision clouded with brilliantly sparkling afterimages...his mind was expanding.

He wasn't sure how he knew this, or why he had phrased it in this manner, but it...was fitting, it was the only answer, and now...now, Scout was a burning little presence in the back of his mind - muted, but present and, somehow Medic knew, it would grow more distinct and clear given time.

When Medic's vision cleared again he was laying on the bed beside Scout, having tipped sideways without realizing it. Scout was still and silent beside him, Medic finding that the man was unconscious when he mustered the energy to lift himself up and check him; no other discolorations yet, Scout's gums had receded slightly though the teeth themselves had not grown further...time, the boy needed time - conversion was begun in a surge, then completed slowly, that had to be the explanation. Medic found himself wondering at what Sniper would have observed if Medic had not been torn from him (a more annoying and worrisome thought was what had Cleward and the others seen?) and how long Scout would be asleep...he could sense Scout's uneasy sleep through the - the bond the two now shared.

'I am near,' he found himself thinking, not certain if the words themselves would carry through the bond but somehow knowing the sentiment would.

Scout's eyes fluttered then went still and his head slowly turned toward Medic - yes, he'd "heard" the German, and Medic felt a bit of the unease drain away from the male.

Scout could hear him, knew he was there...yes, knew he was there, and Medic felt a surge of protectiveness and fondness. Scout was his; he would be sure to take very good care of his Scout, yes...

A grin slowly worked its way across his face as he ran his fingers through Scout's tangled, sweaty hair.

"I will take very good care of you, my boy," he whispered into Scout's ear.

Scout made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, then went still again.

\-----------------------------------------

Scout was still unconscious and Medic was loathe to leave his side but thirst had driven him out of the guest bedroom where Scout lay and into the kitchen, causing him to walk by the woman he had been neglecting in his drive to claim Scout for the pack.

She was hardly conscious herself, slumped in the chair as best as the webbing would allow, and Medic could detect the smell of urine in the room. He passed by and got himself a glass of water then came back to kneel in front of her, peering up into her face.

Her eyes were barely open but when she realized he was there they went wide and she drew away from him, pressing herself back into the cushions of the chair with a muffled whimper.

With slow sips he drained the glass, crouching there on his heels and meeting the woman's terrified gaze with his own calm stare; she was no doubt starving, dehydrated, and probably in incredible discomfort from having been trapped in the same chair in the same position for so long. A very small part of him pitied the pathetic thing - she ultimately served no purpose other than a means to an end, a bit of leverage that had sated Medic's own sadistic curiosity in his conversion of Scout and, eventually, his claiming of Spy. She had fulfilled that purpose and now really only had a final purpose left...

He reached out to pat her on the head, like one would do to a dog. She shied away from the contact with a muffled squeak of words that were lost behind the gag of webbing, prompting a quiet laugh from Medic.

He went and refilled his glass, then headed back toward the guest bedroom only to meet Scout in the hallway; he was unsteady on his feet, his gaze slightly unfocused and eyes watering profusely, holding himself up against the wall and blinking blearily at him.

"I-i..."

Medic moved closer, reaching out to stroke fingers down his face, Scout blinking the water from his eyes and Medic smearing his fingertips through the resulting tracks of moisture.

"Thirsty?" Medic asked into the silence, offering Scout the full glass.

Scout nodded and drained the glass in four gulps, wiping his eyes against his forearms and letting the glass drop to the carpet with a quiet thud. "I'm..."

Through the stirring in the back of his mind where Scout's presence was Medic understood without the male needing to speak; a soft smile crossed his face as he came over to rest hands on Scout's shoulders and gently guide him down the hallway to the doorway of the living room.

He pointed the man toward his mother in her chair and lowered his face to Scout's ear. "Tell me...are you hungry?" he whispered.

Scout's gaze fell on the trapped female and Medic watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. "Yeah...yeah I am...alpha..."

Medic froze. "What...did you call me?"

"A-alpha...I'm super hungry."

Alpha...

So close now that his lips brushed against Scout's ear, Medic let his eyes droop shut. "Call me that again."

"Alpha."

"Go and eat then, my boy..." Medic whispered, giving Scout's shoulders a squeeze before releasing him. "I have provided."

Scout staggered forward and fell against the chair; mumbled pleading gave way to muffled screams as Scout set upon the woman, pausing only to wipe away the webbing from the immediate area he was tearing apart.

The surge of hunger and delight that hit him through their bond almost dropped Medic to his knees, forcing him to catch himself on the doorway and detangle himself from Scout's elated presence - Medic would need to learn to ignore that sort of thing passively, he supposed, so it would not take him unawares when his pack members were especially overwhelmed in the moment.

And speaking of the moment...

Alpha...it was what Scout had called him, and what Medic himself had referred to Sniper as, initially - Sniper was his alpha, was he not? 

...by birth, he supposed, not by choice. Sniper was not here. He had failed to protect Medic, and even himself. He had sired Medic, certainly, but had not been strong enough to do more than that.

Medic had enthralled Spy and made him do his bidding, had captured and sired Scout into the pack, had protected and soothed him during the conversion, and made certain there was food readily available for the male's awakening. Scout belonged to him now...they were a pack of two, and soon to be three when Spy returned - where did that leave Sniper in the grand scheme of things?

...Medic would not bend knee to an alpha who could not protect his pack.

The German pushed himself upright, away from the door frame, looking in at Scout where the male knelt in the floor, the carcass of his mother across his lap and her blood and entrails staining his chest a bright red as he fed. "Call me, Scout. What is my name?"

Scout lifted his head and turned, eyes flashing. "Alpha."

"You belong to me, and I will protect you."

"Yeah, I know. I know you will. I know it."

There came a rush of fondness and need through the bond and Medic grinned widely, the tips of his fangs prickling into his lower lip.

Medic would not bend knee to an alpha.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the dead of night when Spy finally returned.

There was no telling how difficult it had been for the man to infiltrate the facility, locate Sniper, and then escape with his body in tow - there was no telling how difficult it had been to get back across the nation with the corpse, or even how hard it had been to get up to the apartment without being detected.

But he was here and once inside with the door locked behind him the Frenchman had carelessly thrown the black plastic body bag to the floor and then immediately had his weapon drawn and trained on the dark imitation of the man he'd once known years ago.

Medic sat enthroned in Marianne's chair, calm and collected and utterly unconcerned that he had a revolver pointed at him. "I see you were successful."

"Where is she?" Spy snapped, expression as furious as his tone. "I've done as you asked now get out of our lives."

Medic spread his hands, almost shrugging. " _I_ have not harmed her, as I promised. May I at least confirm that you brought him?"

Lips pursed Spy knelt down and seized the zipper on the bag, ripping it open; the smell of wet, stinking, unwashed body filled the living room as Medic leaned forward to see Sniper's corpse within the bag, wrapped in clear plastic sheeting. He did not appear to be decomposing and his presence was still a cold and distant afterthought in the back of Medic's mind, but it was definitely Sniper.

"You have held up your end of the bargain. I promise you, I will be taking my leave."

Medic lifted his eyes to find Spy's gaze; his muscles twitched and his pupils opened wide, immediately ensnaring the Frenchman, holding him where he knelt, spellbound and helpless.

"Scout, if you would please," Medic said quietly.

Scout came out of the hallway where he had been hiding just out of sight and moved to help Spy stand, tugging the revolver from the man's slack fingers and removing the jacket and hidden blade as he came across it. When Spy was reduced to standing there in just his shirt and pants Medic stood from the chair and carefully crossed over to him; Scout slid the knife into Medic's waiting hand and the German fumbled it open, reaching out to untuck Spy's shirt and grip the bottom hem.

 _"We will all be taking our leave,_ " Medic said softly, sliding the sharp blade under the bottom button of Spy's shirt and tugging upward, severing the threads. _"All of us, together..."_

Spy murmured something unintelligible as Medic cut the buttons from his shirt one by one, then stripped the garment off him; a silent order echoing through their bond had Scout moving to cocoon the Frenchman, starting at his legs and ending at his shoulders. Medic broke eye contact then and took Spy into his arms - the man had always been thin, little more than lean muscle on a delicate frame, and he was still just as light as ever.

"Collect my things," Medic said softly, looking at Scout. "We will leave now, while it is dark and there is no one about."

"Yeah, all right. Where we going?" Scout asked over his shoulder as he moved to return to the guestroom.

"Somewhere...quiet, and isolated. I am relying on your knowledge to guide us somewhere safe, Scout." He backed up his words with feelings of trust and felt Scout respond with warm feelings of understanding and pride - Scout was happy to be needed and trusted by his alpha, after all.

When Scout returned Medic wrapped the trapped Spy in his large coat to hide the web cocoon, able to carry the light male with ease with the case full of vials and the syringe hanging from his fingers beneath Spy's legs. Scout picked up Sniper then followed Medic out the door and then out into the night, to the vehicle Medic had stolen from the last person who had picked up the "hitchhiker" on their way to Boston...he would need to change vehicles again soon, but for now this one would still serve.

Medic placed both Spy and Sniper into the trunk, then slipped into the driver's seat with Scout wordlessly sliding into the passenger's side.

It was time to find somewhere safe, quiet, and secure, so that he would not be interrupted while converting Spy and reviving Sniper.


	11. Chapter 11

The building Scout chose was on the extreme outskirts of the city in an area that looked to have died out within the last decade or two; the streets were lacking in care, few street lights were functioning, and nearly every building was boarded up or closed down. Within the building itself it smelled strongly of mildew and old paper bringing to mind that of a library in ruin, but there were rooms in the back that lacked windows as well as a single street light near enough to the front windows to allow in a suitable amount of light so for now Medic was satisfied with their hiding place.

He had carefully deposited the unconscious Frenchman into one of the back rooms and secured him then had turned to the task of examining Sniper's remains after dragging the man's body into the front room into the pale light filtering in through dusty windows. In the apartment Sniper had appeared mostly whole; although the plastic was clear there were several layers of it and it had been just transparent enough for Medic to recognize the man's face through it. Unwrapping that plastic from his upper body now however revealed the large number of bullet holes that riddled him including one that had gone cleanly through an eye and out the back of the man's head.

A closer examination revealed that while the wounds were numerous the rounds had traveled more or less cleanly through the body except in a few areas where Medic could see the bullets had struck bone. Along with the few shattered bones there would be organ damage to contend with as well as the damages caused by freezing and thawing, but at least the Australian did not seem to be outright rotting; he was cold to the touch and his skin was soft and squishy - his body was wet from defrosting and his skin was absorbing the water trapped against it due to the plastic preventing it from draining away or drying. The skin did not move back into place when Medic carefully rubbed his thumb over the palm of Sniper's hand; he instead began to stroke through Sniper's wet and matted hair as he thought on his next step.

Throughout his examination Medic had been looking for some physical sign of life. Sniper was still a distant and cold presence, indicating that on some level the man was alive though Medic wasn't certain how the mental bond between them worked. From gentle experimentation on the ride over here he had discovered he could affect Scout's thought processes and feel the younger man's emotions if he concentrated, and of course he remembered the sheer hunger and need that resonated through the bond during Scout's feeding...but how did it actually work...

There didn't seem to be a way to connect with Sniper more than what Medic could sense now; attempting to influence him as he had influenced Scout hadn't garned any reaction, physical or otherwise, from the "dead" man. Medic could only assume Sniper was indeed alive but in some sort of dormant state - alive enough to be sensed but not enough to react to stimuli even on a subconscious level.

Medic sent a silent order for Scout to leave their 'guest' asleep and to come assist him instead; Scout was there within moments, kneeling down at Medic's side and whistling at the sight of Sniper's corpse.

"Wow, they really shot the guy up, huh? How do we fix it?"

Medic reached over to brush his fingertips against the younger man's left side, lingering on the greenish patch of skin there. "This organ here - it is key to reviving him. Have you tried pulling from it yet?"

Scout shook his head, forehead wrinkling. "Nah, not yet. What's it for?"

"It produces a compound that relieves pain and appears to be highly regenerative," came his answer, in his mind going back over all those times that Sniper had smeared the green gunk across his skin and into his eyes (and of course recalling those times where he had swallowed it himself to counteract pain and drugs in his system while at the facility). "It is also able to purge oneself of chemical persuasions."

"Sounds cool. So what do we do, cover him in the stuff and hope it works?"

Medic patted his shoulder. "Essentially, yes...I am not certain how much we will need to use, this is why I require your assistance - I recall a time when Sniper mended my eyes with his own productions. After applying it he then coated my eyes with webbing...I am not sure if it was meant to keep the paste in place but I see no reason not to do the same in this situation."

Scout nodded and shifted off his knees to sit cross-legged instead, peering up at him. "All right, I gotcha. Maybe you start and show me where it all goes and I'll help cover him, or I dunno, however you want to do it."

Chuckling Medic again patted the man's shoulder. "Well, our first step should be freeing him from this plastic. Take his shoulders, there..."

\-----------------------------------------------------------

After emptying their sludge organs onto Sniper's injuries and wrapping him in webbing Medic had sent Scout to search their immediate surroundings for anything useful, his only firm instructions being to remain unseen and to be back before dawn.

After the younger man had departed Medic briefly looked through the other rooms of the building, finding a storage closet full of old office furniture and retrieving a chair that he carried back to the room where he'd left Spy; when the Frenchman finally awoke Medic was seated in that chair facing him, one leg resting across the other and with him leaning forward with an elbow propped up on on his knee.

Despite the dim lighting Medic found he could see clearly enough; he thought of his light sensitivity and had the sudden epiphany of his possessing a limited form of night-vision: it would make sense that direct light was agonizing while the ambient light that managed to make it back to this room was both comfortable to his eyes as well as seemingly brightening the whole room much like a regular lighting fixture would have to someone with normal eyesight.

He had to wonder at what Spy was seeing as the man came awake; Medic would no doubt be some sort of silhouette framed in the doorway behind him at the very least, but he found he couldn't guess at what this level of lighting would look like to Spy's eyes - it hadn't even been that long ago when Medic had been human himself but thinking on it now it felt like an eternity ago (and also not a state of being Medic desired to return to...).

He shook his head and pushed the thoughts aside and instead focused on the man in front of him. Spy was still cocooned as well as secured to the floor at his waist and ankles, his head free (for now) to turn from side to side and Medic watched silently, smiling, as the man came fully awake and briefly looked over his surroundings. When Spy's head turned to look directly at him his eyes were bright little points in his face and Medic could see the fury warring with panic there.

"Who are you?" the Frenchman growled. "What have you done?"

"Guten Morgen," Medic replied softly, sitting up straighter and letting his foot drop back to the floor so he could rest both hands on his knees. "I hope you slept well."

Spy squirmed in the floor, no doubt testing the strength of the webbing, then turned his face to Medic again. "Who. Are. You?"

Smiling Medic spread his hands apart. "Do you not recognize me, old friend?"

"You are no man, certainly not the man I believed you to be. Not the man I knew. What have you done to Marianne?"

Medic sighed then clucked his tongue in a disapproving way, pushing himself to his feet and coming over to kneel beside the trapped male. "So little trust... As I have said, I did not harm her - I keep my word, after all. Scout, on the other hand...I made no such promises on his behalf."

The doctor couldn't help but grin and chuckle at the look of dawning horror on the Frenchman's face, his amusement then immediately fading as the man lunged at him as far as the webbing would allow him; Spy's teeth scraped across the material of Medic's pants as Medic instinctively pulled back slightly - the man had actually tried biting him? Medic wasn't sure which was more pathetic: the fact that he had flinched at such a petty, useless attack or the fact that Spy had done so in the first place.

His hand darted out to seize a handful of Spy's hair, yanking his head back and watching as Spy's Adam's Apple bobbed as he swallowed before hurling a tirade of angry French at him; Medic allowed him to vent for a few moments before simply reaching down with his free hand to shove down on Spy's neck, his words immediately choked off as the pressure closed off his airway.

The German felt a surge of adrenaline race down his spine and he grinned as he pressed down harder; he could feel the muscles of Spy's jaw and neck moving beneath his hand as Spy struggled to tear himself free of his grip, but escape was impossible while Medic still had a hand tangled in his hair as well as the leverage afforded him from his leaning position, permitting him to bring the full weight of his body to bear if he truly wanted to.

"Now now," Medic chided, eyes riveted on Spy's face as the man's pulse pounded against his fingers. "Let's not do something we will certainly regret later."

He released him and Spy sucked in a noisy breath, Medic now reaching to seize him by a handful of the webbing across his front to yank him upward; again his hand found the man's hair and he pulled Spy's head back as far as he could, leaning forward to place his mouth near his ear and pausing to listen to the wheeze of a man struggling to draw breath through a bruised throat bent at an extreme angle.

"I want you to listen to me," he whispered. Spy went rigid and tried to move away so Medic simply moved with him. "You belong to me now...do you understand that? Marianne does not matter. Going forward all you shall care about is me, your alpha, and the well-being of your packmates. Do you understand?"

The Spy hissed something the doctor could only assume was an insult or threat in French and Medic roughly slapped the man back down into the floor, both hearing the thud and feeling it vibrate through the floor when the back of his head struck; the impact coupled with the lack of proper air must have dazed him as Spy lay there and panted, head lolling, for several moments before turning his head to face Medic again.

"I will kill you," came the pained, growled threat.

Medic sniffed and shook his head; Spy would be an interesting conquest - if he had not personally seen the man escape seemingly hopeless situations in the past then he would have written off the threat as a collection of empty words...but given who they were coming from...

"You have attacked your alpha," Medic said after a moment, his tone quiet. He reached out to rest a hand on Spy's forehead only to have the male pull away with a scathing look. "You will need to be...taught your place within the pack."

Pausing, he sent his senses out through the bond that connected him to Scout; the boy was excited about something but Medic could not tell what, only that he was still safe and unharmed as well as on his way back to him.

"...we are not alone, you and I - there is Scout, and soon Sniper will be revived. Were it just us together I could perhaps allow you to persuade me to use a more gentle approach in your education, but as the alpha must not appear weak before his fellows..."

Medic pushed himself to his feet then sent a swift kick into Spy's side, feeling the toe of his boot connect with the elbow of the arm pinned there; Spy grunted in pain and seemed trying to struggle to sit upright but Medic aimed a second kick into the soft spot just above the man's hip. Spy let out a groan and a rush of air, then began to fight and thrash as Medic reached down to melt away the webbing that held his waist and feet to the floor. Medic allowed him this little expenditure of energy, then lifted him to his feet and slammed him back into the wall and pressed his forearm across the male's throat.

Spy continued to kick and squirm for several moments longer until he began to go limp from the lack of air; the German waited a bit longer for the worst of his struggles to die down before he released his hold on the shirt to leave the Frenchman held up only by the arm across his neck, then he pressed his free hand across the man's mouth and curled his little finger up over his nose to pinch and close off his air supply entirely.

When Spy's eyes began to droop closed and his head was held upright by Medic's hand alone he abruptly released him and let him topple to the floor in a heap.

"Your first lesson will be a harsh one," he said down to the unconscious man. "The lessons to follow it will be heavy-handed for as long as you choose to make them."

Which...now that he thought about it, Spy was likely trained in various methods of resisting interrogation and torture. Should he decide to try and employ those methods here...his education may take longer than strictly neccessary, but as it stood Medic did not want to risk a disobedient pack mate, and he had such a curiosity to see how long it would take to break the Frenchman...

Again he bent to retrieve Spy from the floor, carrying him over to the empty chair and propping the male up in it; he melted away and adjusted the webbing so that Spy was bound to the chair at the ankles, across the thighs, and around his belly and upper torso with his wrists pulled down and secured to the seat of the chair at the sides, which would leave him slumped forward and unable to sit up fully once he was conscious again.

Once he had the man settled Medic dragged the chair around so that Spy would be facing the doorway, the idea of remaining a silhouette appealing to him along with forcing Spy to stare into the light coming through the door.

It was then that Scout returned with a mildew-spotted duffel bag in hand. Medic looked at it curiously as Scout admired Spy's new arrangements. "And what did you find, my boy?"

"About a half mile down the street is an old storage unit place, some of 'em ain't empty. I busted in some doors, found some old clothes and if we have to we can move down to there - there's a water faucet that's still good." He turned from Spy and offered the bag to Medic. "You uh...you wanted clothes that weren't bloody, right? And I was thinking that Snipe's is going to need something when you fix him, so..."

Medic smiled warmly at the hopeful look on the male's face - he so badly wanted to be told he had done well, he desperately wanted praise from him. "Very good thinking, Scout. I am quite proud of you."

Scout beamed and Medic moved to stroke his fingers down the man's face, chuckling as Scout nuzzled into the contact; he took the bag and opened it, pulling out the clothes to sort through them and find ones to set aside for Sniper's eventual awakening. The clothes smelled musty but were clean enough that just airing them out should take care of the stink; Scout was only all too happy to lay them out in the floor to let them air out, then began talking excitedly about all the other things he'd noticed on his little scouting - ha! - mission.

It seemed that among the boarded up businesses were a few residential homes that were abandoned and falling apart, but Scout had spotted lights on just a few blocks over - if anything those lights signaled the location of a food source and Medic again praised Scout for noticing it. One of the buildings Scout had gone poking through had a basement with a door that still had a functional lock so that was another potential hiding place if they needed it, and additionally he had noticed a tiny roving pack of stray dogs - yet another food source, if one that could prove difficult to actually obtain in a pinch.

When he was done with his report Scout followed Medic back into the other room to again empty their sludge organs onto Sniper's corpse and then cocoon him back up. By this time the sun was beginning to rise and the light level was slowly inching toward the point where it would be painful to endure. Medic instructed Scout to assist him in carrying Sniper back into the same room that Spy was held in and once there they gently laid the Australian out along the wall before Medic shut the door behind them, plunging the room into a glorious near-total darkness.

Medic did find that his assumption about having pseudo night-vision was a correct one - the only light that came in now was through the cracks around the door in its frame, and while it was enough for Medic to make out Scout and Spy's dim outlines it certainly wasn't enough to do anything more useful than that...of the changes to his vision that may have ocurred being able to see in total darkness certainly wasn't one of them.

"Come Scout, I need rest and you may lay with me if you like."

Medic stretched out on the wall opposite of where they had laid Sniper, Scout content to lay out beside him with his legs tangled with the doctor's own.

"How long you think it'll take to fix up Sniper?"

Medic did not immediately answer, for he truly had no answer to give. "...I do not know," he replied finally. "When Sniper repaired my eyes it was over the span of a single night, but those were eyes - they are not skin, muscle, and bone. It may take days or even weeks, we shall simply have to see. I did not yet notice any improvement in his injuries but it has only been a matter of hours yet."

Scout nodded and yawned loudly, and Medic allowed him to slide closer and snake an arm around his waist; in a way he was fine with whatever brought the boy comfort as the German found he wasn't adverse to the contact himself. As they both began to nod off in the dark and the silence Medic even found himself rubbing a hand gently up and down Scout's side.

When they both woke the daylight outside was certainly brighter and despite the pain it caused Medic still had Scout assist him in pulling Sniper back out into the main room, into the sunlight coming through the filthy windows, so that there would be enough light for him to determine just how quickly the sludge was working.

He ended up being pleasantly surprised, already able to see signs of the bone mending and the bullet holes closing up with new skin growing in; at Medic's insistence Scout pressed his lips to each hole and forcibly vomited sludge down deep into the wounds, the German having a momentary worry of closing up the outer wounds before the inner parts had fully regenerated. It was fascinating to watch Scout's tongue dart into each entry wound, shoving the green goop in those times where he hadn't managed to "seal" his lips over the hole properly and when he was emptied Medic moved to take his place, ending with filling Sniper's still-empty eye socket with sludge before cocooning him again. As he worked the webbing back into place he thought on how swallowing his own sludge had kept his system free of those drugs the scientists had forced on him; if he could bring Sniper back to the point of having a functioning circulatory system again perhaps he could inject the man with the sludge and hasten the recovery process (or maybe he could manually force the heart to beat himself - it would not be the first time he'd been elbow-deep in a man's chest cavity tending to a heart after all).

Regardless, at this time all he could do was continue on as he was; Scout assisted him in carrying Sniper back to the dark room where they'd slept, then Medic pushed the door until it was nearly closed but open enough to let in a sliver of light.

Spy was awake and watching him - Medic could see how his eyes tracked him, could note how the man was blinking rapidly (to clear his vision at the sudden change in light, no doubt). The muscles of his eyes twitched but Medic did not employ his gaze; he was more interested in seeing where Spy's breaking point was, where his weaknesses lay, and how far he could press the man without resorting to his hypnosis.

Faintly aware of Scout settling against the wall at Sniper's head, Medic moved to stand before the bound Frenchman, his hands behind his back as he studied him.

"How are we feeling?"

"What game are you playing at, then? Hmm?" Spy murmured, still staring up at him. "You have murdered my wife - for what? What have you gained? What do you want from me?"

Medic smiled down at him - he certainly seemed much calmer, much more like the man Medic knew. "She was a means to an end, my friend...you perhaps should have taught her to be more wary of strangers, even those claiming to know and be concerned for your loved ones." Turning on a heel he began to pace, head turning to keep his attention on Spy. "As for what I have gained, isn't it obvious? I have you within my grasp, I have Scout, and you yourself retrieved Sniper for me. And what I want...is your adoration, your loyalty and obedience, and your skills."

Spy's face twisted into a sneer. "Please, doctor - better men than you have made such demands of me."

"Yes, but those were mere men," Medic chuckled. "I am much, much more..."

"The first opening you afford me, I will kill you."

"I do not doubt that, but give it time - I have been changed-"

"-so I have noticed," the man interrupted dryly.

"-and I believe you will find that my methods are unlike any you have experienced," Medic went on, ignoring the interruption. He paused in his pacing and turned himself into the light so that it played over half of his face and lit up the fang-filled grin he wore; Spy's only response was the slightest furrowing of the brow and Medic considered any sort of reaction from the man to be a victory. "You are owed punishment for attacking your alpha, and we have a process to begin besides."

"I am not afraid of you, doctor," Spy whispered, expression hardening. He was no doubt preparing himself mentally for what he assumed was coming and Medic's grin grew wider as he stalked toward the bound male.

He sincerely doubted the Frenchman could fully prepare for this.

Again he dug fingers into hair and yanked his head to the side, Spy's neck exposed and vulnerable; Medic trailed his fingers from the hollow of the man's collarbone up to his Adam's apple then moved to pause where the man's pulse beat against his skin, pleased to find his heart racing despite the outward appearance of calm he was trying to project.

With a soft laugh Medic bent to press his face against Spy, teasing his lips just along the man's hairline behind his ear. "Fear is nothing to be ashamed of, friend," he murmured. "And believe me...we will find what you are afraid of, and when we are finished the only thing you will fear is disappointing me."

He sank his teeth into Spy's neck, the other huffing out a rush of breath in surprise that quickly turned into a pained groan as he strained against Medic's grip; Medic responded by locking his other hand around Spy's neck and pressing him closer, jaws working to push his fangs in as deep as they would go before beginning to inject the venom.

The moment the venom hit his system Spy's groan became a series of desperate, agonized noises that came from deep within the throat; by the time Medic had emptied his venom sacs Spy was writhing and struggling to pull free as it burned its way through his body.

As the German went to stand up straight Spy managed to spit at him; the spittle struck Medic's thigh and soaked into his pants, Medic sighing and shaking his head. 

"Scout, might I ask you a question?"

Scout sat up where he had been slumping against the wall, watching the spectacle in silence. "Yeah, sure, what'd you need?"

"How did you feel when Spy married your mother?"

Scout's expression darkened. "Never wanted his French ass anywhere near my Ma."

With a hand Medic brushed at the little wet spot on his thigh, turning and smiling at Scout as Spy panted and gasped behind him. "...if you like, you may feel free to express your displeasure with our friend's interference in your family life. Just do not kill him, yes?"

Scout's grin went absolutely sinister. "Oh, oh hell yeah, thank- thank you, Doc. I won't kill him, sure thing."

Chuckling, Medic moved over to sit as Scout vacated the spot near Sniper, lifting the Australian's head into his lap and petting him like one would a house cat. Scout got to his feet and stood in front of the ailing Frenchman, grinning like a lunatic and cracking his knuckles.

"You ain't got my Ma here this time to warn me off, I've wanted to do this for ages - I got years to catch up on, pally..."


	12. Chapter 12

The room stank liberally of blood underlaid with the dusty smell that permeated the abandoned library; around Spy's feet were small puddles of brown, congealed blood with spots where the Frenchman had vomited a little and had managed to tilt to the side enough to spit it to the floor rather than soak himself in it. Scout found the vomit especially hilarious and mocked the man for it even as he licked Spy's blood off his knuckles, Medic aware through their bond that the boy was purposely putting on a show to amuse his alpha; it was endearing and the doctor had decided that acquiring Scout so soon had been a boon after all.

There were times where he had to send Scout out for food or water and in this role the boy was exceptionally useful, but Medic had found that Scout was just as useful when his pent-up frustrations were applied to the bound man in the chair; Spy had yet to "break" but after the third or fourth time of Scout beating him to a pulp the snarky, mocking insults and lewd comments had stopped, the Frenchman simply going quiet and enduring the beatings and then afterward hardly reacting to Medic's bite.

"All you must do," Medic had told him, "is give in."

The Frenchman had not answered, dazed and panting hoarsely while twitching as venom raced through his body and then stubbornly remained silent each time Medic "gently" reminded him that all he had to do to ease his pain was simply surrender himself as he rubbed sludge into the worst of the man's bruises and cuts. To be truthful the German did not think that resistance would be a problem in the end, not once the conversion had taken hold, but there was a part of him that desired to see Spy begging for mercy; he could picture it so clearly: the man stripped of his clothing on his knees in the blood and the vomit, head bowed and arms bound, weak and pitiful and desperately needing his alpha to forgive him.

To want him.

It was that desire along with curiosity and delightful sadism that drove Medic to see how far he could push before the man would crumble and reach that point; it was that desire and mental image that was the last thing he thought of each day before resting and the first thing he thought of when he woke. 

He _would_ see it happen in reality, not just within his dreams.

Then...

It was just before dawn, as Medic was stretching out in the floor to rest with Scout eager to join him, when all thoughts of Spy's breaking were wiped from his mind as a singular thought superimposed itself:

_Release me._

Medic jerked and stiffened, hands clutching at his head as the order thundered through his mind; within moments Scout had him by the shoulders, confused and concerned, stammering out questions as the command resonated through their bond. Medic needed to get up, to move and to-

-that command had not come from Medic...what was he doing?

After a moment to compose himself Medic allowed Scout to help him sit upright, and afterward he could only stare over to where Sniper's cocooned body lay.

In the back of his mind, Sniper's presence was growing warmer.

Wordlessly Medic moved on hands and knees toward the body, the base of his skull beginning to faintly throb...so similar to-

-not his, but A, heartbeat.

It would seem...Sniper was awakening. And he wanted to be free of the webbing that encased him.

Now at Sniper's side Medic's hands slid over the webbing over the man's chest, seeking proof of a pulse; with the regular application of sludge Sniper's body had been more or less restored fully, with Medic's final efforts having been forcing sludge into the man's bloodstream and down his throat into the stomach...without the heart beating on its own he had been debating manually manipulating the heart himself if Sniper showed no change, but-

From within the male's chest came a sluggish thump. Then, after a very long wait, there came another.

The heart was beating - slow, painfully slow, but it was beating.

He licked a finger and held it near Sniper's mouth and nose - the only part of him that was not covered with webbing - and found no sign of breathing, but if the heart had awakened surely the rest of his functions would return.

And once Sniper was fully awake...

Medic thought again of how sudden, and unexpected, the command to free him had been; he could not be taken unaware like that again, not if he was going to defy his pathetic alpha and seize control himself, and while Sniper's presence was growing warmer in the back of his mind Medic found that the man did not react when he sent his own senses up the mental bond between the two of them.

"...Scout, keep tending to our guest," he finally said softly, turning his head to find the younger man anxiously staring. "I will see to our Sniper - it would seem he is nearing a full recovery."

\--------------------------------------------------------

Sniper grew warmer, his heart beat more strongly, and he was breathing more deeply with each passing hour...and the commands were coming with more frequency.

The Australian was aware enough to know that he was bound in some manner and he did not seem to care for that idea one bit; Medic shuddered and ground his teeth together with each mental command...but the more they came, the easier they became to ignore.

That first one had taken him by surprise and he had wanted to act on it; sheer confusion and Scout grabbing him had perhaps been the only things that had kept him grounded within his own mind, able to resist the man's call...and with each consequent call Medic shuddered but it was not so compelling as that first command.

And, he was discovering, anger also made for a very potent countermeasure to Sniper's mental commands.

With each demand for freedom from the webbing Medic countered it with memories of Sniper's ineptitude: the foremost memory was of course his inability to protect Medic from Cleward's men, leading to Sniper's "death" and Medic's capture - that was inexcusable, unforgivable; then there was Sniper's reliance on his hypnosis rather than presenting an authoritative front - if he could not control Medic without needing to resort to hypnotic coercion, how could the man hope to control an entire pack? And there were other bitter thoughts that followed: he had chosen a poor place to hide and that had led to them being found so easily; despite a near-lifetime of being alert for danger Sniper had been taken unaware by a small army of armored and armed men sent to retrieve them, having somehow been deaf and dumb to their presence until they were gunning him down.

So many reasons...to disobey.

Medic had reduced the thoughts into almost a mantra, it serving as a form of self-comfort as he watched and waited, and finally-

Sniper's body seized up and a rush of air came out of his mouth along with a low moan; Medic straightened, eyes riveted on Sniper's body as the man twitched and twisted, harsh grunts and half-coherent words spilling from his mouth as he spasmodically jerked about.

Then...

"Why'm'I..."

The words were slurred together but the accompanying mental query was clear enough: _why am I tied down?_

"Sniper."

The Australian's head turned - as much as it was able within the confines of the webbing at any rate - toward Medic's voice. "You...Medic, doc - good boy...good, good...boy..."

Medic's eyes narrowed slightly. Good boy...yes, he may have been, once.

"You can set me loose now...I'm back, I'm awake. You fixed me, that's good."

"Welcome back to the land of the living, herr Sniper," Medic said softly, faintly aware of both Scout and Spy's attention on him now. "How do you feel?"

For a handful of moments Sniper struggled against the webbing that cocooned him head to toe, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. "Been better, but it doesn't matter - you did good, mate. Let me loose, let me see you...you're all right? Where are we?"

Medic held up a hand accompanied by a silent command for Scout to remain where he was, then he leaned toward Sniper. "We are safe...far safer than we were in that old farmhouse, I assure you."

"All right, good work. Now let me out."

_Release me, now._

Medic's eye twitched and his head jerked at the command - Sniper wanted to be free, and Medic felt a deep need to obey it...everything would be all right if he just listened...

-gun shots and Sniper falling, Medic waking in the glass cube-

The German hissed out a breath and shook his head. "N-no, no..."

There was a long pause, only Sniper's breathing breaking the silence that followed. "No...what?" the man finally asked, his voice low and tone dangerous.

Medic shivered at that tone - obey, he should obey-

-the catheter removed, the humiliation of relieving himself in front of an audience, of kissing Cleward's ass and feigning obedience, waiting for his chance-

"No, Sniper," Medic said, huffing out a shaky breath that pushed a bit of saliva out of his mouth to trail down his chin. Focus...he needed focus...the anger at Sniper's failing him, the smell of the blood and vomit in the room, Scout's white-hot presence and the concern and fear echoing through their bond-

"Let me out of this, now."

_NOW._

"NO!" Medic bellowed, slamming his fists into the floor beside his knees. "NO!"

Sniper's presence all but exploded into his mind, pressing in from all directions - insistent, suffocating, demanding obedience and immediate-

It was by pure chance that Medic's boot cracked into the side of Sniper's head, disrupting the man's concentration, as the German thrashed and clawed at his own head; the mental bond was more developed than he had thought but the loss of concentration caused from the blow to the head was enough to let the doctor regain control and with control came the surge of fury that burned away the rest of the mental conditioning and rushed up the bond between them with a force that had the Australian reeling from it.

"I will not!" Medic shrieked at Sniper's supine form, rolling to his side and back upright to slam his fists down on the man's chest. "You think you deserve my loyalty? My obedience? You think to command me?"

He threw a leg over Sniper's body and now straddled him, wrapping hands around his throat and hauling him as far upright as he could; Sniper coughed and gasped in his grasp and Medic could feel him struggling to push back through the bond.

"You failed, my friend! You failed me when I needed you the most and you believe you are entitled to continue where you fell? Do you think I will forget and forgive the humiliation and fear I have suffered due to your incompetence? Do you honestly think you deserve my respect and adoration? I will not bend knee to weakness!"

"I created you!" Sniper managed to snarl, his body bucking under Medic in an attempt to throw him off. "You are MINE-"

"I BELONG TO NO ONE!"

Medic slammed the man's head into the floor, picked him up and slammed him down again, and again; the anger that had served him so well in blocking Sniper's mental commands now blinded him as he began to beat at the male with his fists in between slamming the back of his head into the floor. Sniper had ceased trying to speak and was reduced to growling like a beast until he wasn't even capable of that and when at last Medic's rage subsided the back of the man's skull was a pulpy bloody mess and Sniper's presence had receded once again into a cold and distant afterthought...Medic had killed him - or, "killed" him, as the case may be.

Breathing hard, his breath burning in his lungs and his blood pounding in his head, Medic whirled around and met the gaze of Scout; the younger male's pulse was racing, his fingers white-knuckled where he gripped his own knees and rocked back and forth, watching. Medic could detect a hint of hunger and pleasure derived from what he'd just seen, and Scout withered under the man's glare and subsequent, harsh reminder that Sniper was not a food source.

"The briefcase," Medic finally growled. "The vials - get them. Now."

Scout nodded and scrambled to obey, coming back minutes later with the remaining vials of venom and the syringe; Medic wasted no time in rolling Sniper prone, wiping the webbing free and raking his fingertips through the blood-soaked hair, searching and seeking-

-there...a fracture in the skull.

With scalpel in hand Medic carved away the skin and hair over the fracture, bending to lick away the blood and reveling in the sheer feeling of dominance and power the taste brought - Sniper was dead, Medic could bring him back...if he chose. Sniper's life was again in his hands and Medic could only imagine how the man would react to such helplessness.

The chuckle began low in the throat and steadily blossomed into a loud cackle as he filled the syringe and jabbed the needle's point through the fracture in the bone, injecting the venom directly into the dead man's brain.

It was a half-formed, wild hypothesis - if it was the venom that was the cause of the conversion, which in turn caused the formation of the mental bond, then perhaps giving Sniper an overdose of Medic's venom would reverse their roles.

Would it work? Medic honestly had no idea...but he knew one thing:

HE was alpha, not the corpse in front of him...and if Sniper could not accept that, then he would not be permitted to live within Medic's world. If the venom could not remake the mental bond then there was no other option: the Australian would obey willingly or Medic would leave him dead, it was as simple as that.

Medic emptied every vial, one syringe at a time, into Sniper's skull, then carelessly vomited enough sludge to coat the visible bone and the fracture before he retreated and left the corpse face-down in the floor.

Spy's eyes were on him as Medic approached, and when he bent down he was delighted to finally see fear there; the sleep deprivation, the beatings...useful tools, but ultimately...

Medic slowly, purposely, looked back at Sniper, then back to Spy, and allowed a manic grin to cross his features as he drank in the man's terror.

"You're a monster..." Spy managed to whisper through cracked, swollen, and bloody lips.

Slowly Medic slid into the man's lap, feeling the Frenchman shaking under him; he ran hands sticky with Sniper's blood through Spy's matted hair before slipping them into Spy's mouth. The man did not bite down, not even when Medic made it a point to scrape the blood from his fingers onto the man's teeth before pulling his fingers free.

"Swallow," he ordered softly.

After a pause Medic watched Spy's throat move as he licked off and then swallowed the blood. Nodding in approval, Medic slipped a hand to the back of Spy's neck and pulled him close, pressing his cheek to Spy's to place his mouth near his ear.

"I am a monster," he hissed, pressing a kiss to the lobe of Spy's ear. "But only if you force me to be...all I ask is for your loyalty, your love...your obedience. Please me, and I shall be a kind alpha...anger me..."

He sucked the earlobe into his mouth and bit it gently, feeling Spy shudder; after a moment Medic moved his mouth down to press lips to Spy's collarbone. "Have I made myself clear?" he murmured, nosing in against Spy's neck and inhaling the scent of sweat, fear, and blood.

Spy swallowed hard and nodded slowly, eyes staring straight ahead as he went very still.

Medic smiled and silently dug his fangs into the man's skin, faintly aware of Scout moving to sample Sniper's blood for himself as the German injected Spy with another dose of venom.


	13. Chapter 13

"What..."

Spy's words were barely words at all - more a gasp that imitated speech - and Medic looked up from where he had been poking and prodding at the back of Sniper's head.

The Frenchman was beginning to break; Medic had made multiple attempts to feed him and offered him water regularly but the Frenchman had stubbornly refused both until a day or so ago when he'd reluctantly sipped some water through lips that were bloody, swollen, and chapped. This tiny surrender had brought on a feeling of delightful satisfaction and Medic had begun to observe the Frenchman's behaviors with a keener eye, noticing Spy's entire body shook with each breath now. He'd soiled himself and it was clear by the way he writhed and shifted at times that the hunched over position he'd been trapped in was beginning to take its toll - he'd been bound to that chair without release for days, helpless beneath Scout's beatings and Medic's venom injections, prevented from sleeping and by this point no doubt starving.

Even now the man swayed in the chair as far as the webbing restraints would permit, his eyes slightly unfocused and staring a hole through the floor.

Medic watched and waited, and then-

"...what is the...whispering..." Spy finally gasped out. 

"Why, whatever do you mean, herr Spy?" Medic asked quietly, letting Sniper's head drop back to rest against the floor as he brushed hair and dried blood from his fingertips.

Spy managed a pathetic chuckle. "Whispering...why are you whispering..." He swallowed hard and managed to lift his head enough to give Medic a rather manic look. "What do you hide now? You...you've always like...liked talking."

At first Medic was puzzled, and then...

...whispering, yes - he remembered whispering. He remembered the old farmhouse, his loss of concentration and focus on the world around him as he struggled to comprehend the whispers in his mind.

"...Scout," the German finally said into the pause, "do you know what he speaks of?"

Scout stood and moved to lean down in front of Spy, his hands braced on his own knees as he peered into the Frenchman's face. Spy actually flinched away from the younger man slightly and Scout snorted and grinned as he turned to glance over to Medic. "I don't know, maybe? I heard stuff but I thought it was like - you know that rush when you stand up too fast? Sorta like that."

Medic smiled and came over, nudging Scout gently out of the way to lean down in his place and grasp Spy firmly by the chin, forcing the man's head back as far as it would go so he could look him squarely in the face.

"That means we are very close...do you understand that?" Medic whispered.

Spy's throat worked to swallow and his eyelids fluttered briefly, but all he did further was huff out a short blast of breath. Medic chuckled and took a moment to admire Scout's handiwork; the boy had been rather particular about avoiding Spy's eyes - from the nose down the Frenchman was a mess but his eyes...they clearly betrayed his exhaustion and fear. Gently the German ran his thumb over Spy's broken lips.

"If you apologize now and swear to behave yourself I would be willing to offer you some measures of comfort in these last moments of your humanity."

Spy's eyes slipped shut and there was the smallest hint of the skin around his mouth tightening - it was not quite a frown, perhaps he was not even capable of frowning at this point, but it was enough to notice as a sign of refusal and Medic shook his head and sighed.

"When the conversion happens you will see reason - you will have no other choice in the matter."

He released his chin with a sigh and turned, straightening as he moved and looking to where Scout stood and smirked against the wall; Scout had been amazingly easy to convert - the fear of Medic harming his mother had been an exceptionally effective tool and Scout hadn't even put up a fight...Medic had to wonder if things may have turned out differently if he had used the woman against Spy as well, but there were too many other variables between the two men to know for certain - one major variable was Scout's accelerated conversion versus Spy's slower change, something Medic supposed should have occurred to him before now.

At any rate if Spy was hearing the whispers then his transformation was close; Scout pushed away from the wall when he noticed Medic's attention on him, drawing the man out of his reverie.

"Whatcha need, alpha?"

"I recall you telling me of households nearby with occupants," Medic answered smoothly, his mind switching gears as he pushed the questions aside. "Once Spy has joined us we will need to clean him up and make certain he is fed." He paused and glanced over his shoulder at the man; Spy's eyes were still closed and his lips were twitching. "I want for you to go and observe the households and select one for us to relocate to - I would prefer you make your selection based on ease of invasion as well as readily available resources inside it."

"Right, right, I gotcha. I won't let you down, alpha. You want me to do all that in one night or should I take some time?"

"Take your time - be cautious, be observant, and choose wisely."

Scout nodded. "Got it."

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Three nights had passed; Scout only returned to sleep during the day, with Medic aware of his general well-being and careful attention to the task assigned him through the feelings that echoed through the mental bond when he was absent.

And finally, Spy changed.

Medic had felt the stirring at the back of his mind and had been watching closely for the last several hours but at last the Frenchman seized up in his seat with a garbled cry and Medic felt the forging of the mental bond between them; by this point Spy was so weak the cry was all he could manage - as Medic carefully lowered himself to the ground, resting on one knee and with his hands on the floor to steady himself as he rode out the curious sensation of the bond forming, Spy immediately went limp and sagged against the webbing tying him to the chair. Moments later, once the German had come back to his senses (there was a great deal of anxiety coming from Scout and he had to firmly reassure the male that nothing was wrong) he pushed himself back to his feet and came over to dissolve the webbing that held Spy prisoner.

There was a series of soft popping sounds as the abused, bloodied body came from free the chair; there were pressure sores and the mess from Spy having soiled himself, along with the countless bruises and cuts from Scout's little sessions - Spy's body, even with the man unconscious, was resisting Medic's gentle attempts to straighten his legs and back, and Medic found himself making soft little shushing noises as he tugged and fought against muscles that had long since locked up and Spy weakly whimpered.

Through their bond Medic communicated - or so he hoped - to Scout that his choice needed to be made quickly, and with Spy curled up in his lap Medic found his gaze coming to rest on Sniper's still form.

The man was still dead; Medic could not sense him at all now, not even as a cold presence as he'd once been prior to Medic reviving him the first time. The wound on the back of Sniper's head was mended (sludge was such a biological marvel) but there had been no sign of the man recovering...and frankly, Medic found that acceptable (not that he'd honestly been trying to revive him anyway...). There was a small part of him grateful for the gift of his transformation and powers but he found he had truly meant it when he'd told himself that Sniper would either obey or not be permitted to live: if Sniper never woke again then he was no longer a problem. He would be a somewhat fond memory and little else.

The question now was what to do with him...he found the thought of devouring his remains to be distasteful (and not just out of some sense of respect for the man), but he also could not allow Sniper's body to fall into the hands of someone like Cleward again - what if they studied his corpse and found a way to reverse the conversion? That would not do...that would not do at all.

Medic supposed he could burn Sniper's remains but burning flesh had a very distinctive smell...it would need to be disguised, masked by something else.

Perhaps they could set fire to their appropriated home when they prepared to leave - that was a decent enough option and there would be the additional confusion of no one knowing who Sniper might be if his charred bones were discovered inside a strange house.

Scout returned several hours later to find Medic still sitting in the floor and comforting an unconscious Spy; the younger male's face broke into a grin at the sight.

"Don't you worry, I picked the perfect place, Alpha - I found a house with a guy in it about Spy's size, we can clean him up no problem and he'll even have clothes! ...well I mean, it's an old fart so it'll be old dude clothes but it'll be better than the shitty stuff he's wearing now."

Medic had to smile at the man's enthusiasm - he was just so _eager_ to please, it was ridiculous - and nodded his head toward Sniper. "Collect him and then lead the way, Scout."

\-------------------------------------------------------------

The home was as old as its occupants, the carpets threadbare in places and the furniture faded and worn, but as Scout had promised the man of the house was indeed Spy's size so after the male had been bathed there was clean clothing available for him; Medic had personally cleaned Spy up and dressed him, then had laid him out on the bed in the master bedroom before moving back into the narrow, dim hallway where Scout had dumped Sniper's corpse when they'd first entered.

While thinking more on setting the house ablaze upon their departure another thought had occurred to him - did the webbing burn?

He left the hallway and entered the dingy kitchen, hunting around until he located a book of matches in a cabinet drawer; Scout was more than willing to assist and created a wad of webbing that stretched between his palms as Medic held a lit match beneath it.

The webbing smoldered and darkened but did not fully catch fire; they tried thin, stringy webbing, thicker batches of it, thin but whole strips - none of it truly "burned," instead going black and powdery on its surface but still remaining intact and mostly unharmed.

That...would be a problem...any hints of foul play could be potentially blamed on a robbery covered up by arson, but if the webbing did not burn then that ran the risk of Sniper's corpse itself not burning due to the cocoon it was still wrapped in. Medic didn't care about leaving a murder-robbery mystery behind but if Sniper's remains were intact enough to study...

With a sigh that trailed into a growl Medic brushed the powdery, charcoal-like webbing from his fingertips. "Scout, clear away all hint of webbing from Sniper - we can leave no hint that something is off. I am going to check on our Spy - when he has awakened we will feed, then we are leaving...in fact, once you are through freeing our Sniper from his cocoon I want you to seek something flammable."

"You got it, boss."

Leaving Scout to his task Medic ambled back toward the bedroom and was pleased to see that Spy was awake; he looked somewhat dazed and grimaced as he moved, and as Medic watched he saw the man's eyes light up when he noticed the German in the doorway.

"...alpha," the Frenchman said quietly.

Medic smirked at that. "You learn quickly, I see. How do you feel?"

"I...I hurt, and I am hungry - very hungry, it is a different kind of pain in its own right."

Medic nodded and moved to the bed, sitting down and gently running fingers down Spy's cheek; Spy seemed wary of the touch, ever so slightly pulling away from it, which prompted Medic to firmly take him by the chin and turn his face to look him in the eye.

"I see you are still fearful...this is good," he said quietly. Spy averted his eyes and Medic shook him gently until he looked back to him. "You should never forget what it would mean to displease me, but I also would remind you that there is no reason to fear me if you have done nothing wrong."

"I apologize, I am just...I am hungry, and uncertain."

Medic nodded and released him, smoothing down the collar of Spy's stolen shirt. "Let us get some food into your belly then, my prized pack member...I have a great many tasks for you once you are fully recovered and willing."

Spy nodded and swung his legs toward the edge of the bed, hissing slightly at each movement; Medic chuckled softly and reached for his shoulders, stopping him before he could place his feet on the floor.

"Here, let me teach you about sludge..."


	14. Chapter 14

Now that he was fed and knew how to draw from his sludge organ Spy's coloration was greatly improving; the skin that did not have the dark olive tinting had a certain vibrancy to it, a clear sign of life returning that had drained out of him during the beatings and the exhaustion while he'd still been human, and now that he was "alive" again he was fascinating to observe.

Medic sat at the 'head' of the table in the kitchen, watching the minute changes on Spy's face as the man sat and sipped his glass of water, deep in thought. The German's eyes tracked the movement as the man's slender fingers rose to stroke his chin - he could picture the once-present cigarette hanging from those fingers and lips, and remembered the grace and skill displayed when Spy opened his knife or brought his revolver to bear; it was a simple matter to superimpose the memory of the man from ten years ago over the man that sat before him now - the only true sign of aging on the Frenchman was the spread of the gray hair at his temples, changing from the isolated spots at the temples to streaks throughout. 

He was still a handsome, intelligent, and dangerous man...and he belonged to Medic now.

The thought brought a smirk to Medic's lips and Spy's gaze rose to meet his as he noticed the attention.

"Yes?"

"Yes what?" Medic asked after a pause.

Spy's expression went guarded. "Yes...alpha?"

Medic allowed a satisfied smile to creep across his face as he rose from his chair and leaned forward on the table, his hands braced against the side with his fingers dangling off its edge. "Have you recovered?"

"Yes, alpha. What do you need of me?"

Over Spy's shoulder Medic could see Scout quietly mimicking the man's speech, could feel the slightest surge of jealously from the male; he turned his attention back to the Frenchman, chuckling softly. "The others, Spy...you were always one to know things you shouldn't. Do you know where the others scattered to, after we were retired?"

The other was silent a moment, his fingers drumming on the table. "...I know where our Engineer returned, for certain. Our Heavy...I did not have the time to truly research everyone's destinations, but Heavy possessed a plane ticket to Wisconsin when we all parted ways." He paused to drain his water glass, gently setting the glass back onto the table and teasing his fingers along its rim. "Our Demoman may have returned to his homeland, but beyond that I could not say."

"Could you find out?"

Another pause, then a nod. "With time." He dropped his gaze to the water glass, dragging his pointer finger through clinging water droplets and then rubbing it and his thumb together. "There are still resources who may recognize me and be willing to assist me."

Medic nodded and pushed himself away from the table. "Do so - whatever you must. Our pack will be complete."

"...sans a Sniper," Spy said quietly.

Medic spun around to see the man staring at the wall - beyond that wall was where Sniper's corpse (freshly liberated from the webbing cocoon) lay. "Do you question me?"

"No," Spy answered quickly. "It just seems a shame that he could not be persuaded."

Nose wrinkling Medic came around the table to stand over Spy; to his credit the Frenchman did not shy away, but the skin around his mouth tightened even as Medic felt a trickle of uncertainty and fear echo through their bond.

"He cannot be persuaded," Medic said, imitating the man's accent as he spat out the word 'persuaded.' "I will waste no further time on him - he is not worth my time, not worth your attention, and I will not be-"

Medic paused as he heard a soft click from the other room, slowly turning to look toward the hall - with its owners dead the house had been silent and there had been no sign of visitors approaching but perhaps there was indeed a third who lived in this home who had returned... Six strides carried him to the doorway between kitchen and hall, and he caught the briefest glimpse of a bare back as the front door swung shut with another muted click-

-his attention immediately dropped to the floor where only minutes ago Scout had left Sniper's remains laying-

"-SCOUT!"

He could feel confusion from his packmates but felt and heard Scout's pounding steps as the male bounded up beside him.

"-what the-"

"-after him! Out the door!" Medic snarled, fingernails clawing bloody lines down Scout's bare arm as he grabbed at and attempted to shove Scout forward in the same motion.

Scout stumbled but then was once again moving, the front door banging into the wall as he flung it open and disappeared through it.

And Medic stood staring at the wet slick on the floor - a puddle, a remnant from Scout's removal of the webbing: the dissolving fluid mixed with oils and fluids from Sniper's body.

How...HOW...

Sniper was dead! His presence was gone from Medic's mind! _Sniper was dead!_

\---------------------------------------------------------

If there was anything Scout had possessed all his life it was a love of running - it had started in grade school on the playground, used to avoid bullies and to win games. In high school it had turned him into a track star, and had he bothered going to college full time he could have made a career out of it - speed, agility, seemingly endless stamina...it hadn't taken much to change his mindset to apply those talents on the battlefield (which was way more interesting than running countless laps around a boring circular track) and for years under TFI's contract he'd been a fast and deadly opponent with a penchant for running his targets down or gleefully leading them on a chase that inevitably ended in an ambush.

But there wouldn't be an ambush waiting this time, and Scout did not have a gun or any other kind of weapon to bring to bear when he caught up with his target...when he thought about it now, immediately reacting without thought to his alpha's command had seemed a good idea in the split instant he'd made it, but now that he was trying to think far enough ahead as to what he was actually going to DO when he caught up with Sniper...

And speaking of Sniper, wasn't that guy supposed to be dead?

Scout himself had unwrapped all that webbing and hadn't seen any sign of life in the Australian - no pulse, no hint of breathing, nothing. He'd been cold and limp and a pain in the ass to maneuver as he'd cleaned the webbing off, and Scout had watched Medic beat the guy to death against the floor in the library - how the hell was he up and sprinting off?

And he was surprisingly fast and agile for someone who had been dead for awhile; Sniper was clad only in a pair of wet boxers and the streetlights lit up his pale skin like a beacon - Scout could clearly see him sprinting ahead of him and frowned slightly as the gangly Australian successfully vaulted himself over a rickety wooden fence and into somebody's backyard.

Scout rushed toward the fence and timed his steps to bring him within range to jump, planting his hands on the top of the fence near the apex of his jump and swinging his body up and out to the right so his legs would clear the top and-

Something darted out of the dark and slammed into his head, hooking around the back of his skull and pulling him forward and off-balance; rather than landing on his feet Scout smashed into the hard-packed dirt of the yard chin-first, the impact putting his teeth through his lip and his momentum flinging his legs over to the side to leave him in a tangled heap at the base of the fence.

Whatever had hit him lifted and then struck again with a metallic thunk across his shoulder blades; his vision clouded and hardly aware of anything but the dirt beneath him and the fence at his back Scout lashed out and felt his shin collide painfully with Sniper's ankle. As the Australian stumbled Scout rolled and came up on his hands and knees, blood pouring from his ruined lip and struggling to pull in enough air to function. In front of him Sniper was righting himself, a rusty garden rake clutched in his hands - there were wooden stakes pounded into the ground with the remnants of chicken wire strung between them, an indication of a long-forgotten garden that they'd both tumbled into, and as Scout went to lunge for Sniper the Australian swung the rake again.

Scout let out a garbled cry that was equal parts pain and frustration as the prongs of the rake dug into his arm but continued with his forward momentum, hands outstretched; with the rake partly embedded in his arm he was forced sideways and only able to get the fingers of one hand under the leg of Sniper's boxers - Scout's grip on the boxers kept Sniper from sidestepping and with the boy's forward lunge only partly stopped they both ended up in a tangle of limbs laying atop the rusted chicken wire with the rake's handle pinned between them.

As the Bostonian scrambled up Sniper's body to straddle him and reach hands for his neck he found instead a pair of hands clamping onto him - one at his ear and the other digging fingers into his hair - that pulled him forward and down, right into Sniper's face.

Scout heard a sucking, gargling noise, then Sniper spat a mixture of venom and saliva into his eyes; with another cry and a sputtering of curses Scout gave up on trying to strangle the male and instead went to roll off him, blinded and his eyes stinging from the venom. To his alarm Sniper rolled with him and in a panic Scout began to buck beneath him, shredding his back against the chicken wire underneath him but desperate to simply get the Australian off him.

There was a release of pressure as Sniper removed his hands from Scout's head; Scout took that moment to immediately lash out and claw his fingers down the man's chest. There was a grunt then and a shifting of Sniper's weight upon him, then Scout was screaming for an entirely new reason as Sniper dipped down and dug his fangs into Scout's neck - off-center and just above where the neck met the chest and shoulder - then reared back and took a mouthful of the younger man with him.

Strong hands finally seized Scout's wrists and pressed them back to the ground beneath him; Scout could feel the heat of his blood gushing from his torn neck and while he still couldn't see Sniper through his venom-filled eyes he could feel the man's hot breath against his face.

"I could kill you right now..."

And all at once the hands were gone, Sniper's weight on top of him was gone, and Scout heard the clatter of the rake being tossed aside.

"...but I'm not going to. Remember that."

With his vision going dark (and not because of the venom) Scout could hear Sniper's footsteps pounding away, heard the creak of wood as he vaulted the fence and left the yard, and then Scout was alone.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Sniper was nowhere to be found by the time Medic and Spy arrived - a full eight blocks away from their appropriated home but thankfully in the yard of an abandoned house and hidden away behind a fence - and Medic found himself mentally restraining himself from finishing off the injured Bostonian with his own bare hands.

Scout had failed...and rather spectacularly - had Medic and Spy not arrived when they had it was likely Scout would have bled to death before any self-administered sludge would have had the time to act; as it was Medic had emptied his sludge organ onto the tear in the boy's neck, then had covered it with a thick layer of webbing to hold the sludge in place. Scout had yet to expire so clearly a direct application of sludge had saved him but hearing the boy's stuttered story of how Sniper - a man who by all rights should have at the very least been starving and weakened from being dead for so long - had overcome him Medic wanted to strangle Scout himself.

When it was clear Scout would not perish Medic rounded on Spy. "FIND him," he snarled, and his foul mood only deepened when Spy took a few steps back with a frown.

"...I am sorry, alpha - I am not the sort of hunter you are wishing me to be in this moment," the Frenchman finally said. "I do not know where Sniper may have gone, and I am not familiar-"

"-I said FIND HIM!" Medic interrupted, standing and striding toward Spy even as the other backpedaled.

"How, alpha? Locating others might have been my specialty but those were targets that were unaware that I was seeking them - at this point we are in need of a hunter, a tracker, the sort of man Sniper himself once-"

He went silent as Medic seized him by the front of his shirt and tugged him forward, almost lifting the slighter man off his feet. "I don't _care_ what Sniper may have been. What I _care_ about is finding him and killing him! You are both worthless, useless!" he snarled, giving the man a shove and turning back to where Scout was still laying.

Sniper was supposed to be dead...how the man had revived...that amount of sludge to the back of the head couldn't have done it, could it? It had been visibly clear that it was enough to repair the damage done to the back of the head but could such a small amount have triggered his revival? It seemed impossible, especially when one considered that Medic could not sense Sniper - their bond was gone and had disappeared on Sniper's second death...or so Medic had believed...

Medic took several deep breaths and found his gaze wandering to the darkest shadows near them - was Sniper still lurking somewhere close, waiting for his chance to strike? For several moments Medic strained his ears, listening - he could hear Scout's labored breathing and the sounds of his hands wiping venom from his eyes as he sniffled; there were the quiet sounds of skin against cloth as Spy crossed his arms; Medic could hear the whisper of the breeze through the narrow slits between the fence pickets, and somewhere in the distance a dog was barking.

There was no sign, no hint, of Sniper...and Medic did not trust that.

"...pick Scout up and bring him," Medic finally growled. "We are exposed here, and I need somewhere secure to think."

Spy nodded and went to haul Scout to his feet, exerting only the bare minimum effort needed to get the man mobile; with a few kicks - more out of anger than out of any real need for a swift exit - Medic knocked several of the wooden slats out of the fence, widening a gap for them to leave through rather than have to climb over it again, then he led the way back to their stolen home.

There was no sign of Sniper on the way back; Medic had the sudden feeling of eyes watching him, of being hunted, and such a feeling had him constantly glancing over his shoulder and eying every bush, tree, and shadowed hiding place they encountered on the walk back. Sniper HAD to be nearby, there was no other explanation for why he'd left Scout alive but on death's door - why not, other than to have him as a distraction? As bait?

Medic had challenged Sniper's claim as alpha...Sniper would be coming to settle that claim, Medic was certain of that. The only question was when would he come to settle...

Once inside the house Medic had Spy leave Scout laid out on the kitchen table, then set him to checking all doors and windows to be certain they were all locked - if Sniper was coming Medic would prefer to hear him coming and would not leave him an easy entrance.

And now....now what?

It was clear Spy was thinking that same question as Medic had caught the man staring at him in silence several times; he could feel the apprehension and uncertainty radiating from the man - he was doubting his alpha, after everything he'd just seen and despite what he'd been through before Medic had converted him...perhaps the man had learned nothing at all.

Mentally Medic ordered Spy to him, and waited as the man cautiously approached.

Tilting his head back, staring down his nose at Spy, Medic paused to gather his thoughts.

"...Sniper will be coming for me, because I have challenged him," he said softly. "I will meet his challenge and kill him, then to ensure he stays dead I will take his head from his shoulders. While I wait for the coward to make his move I want you to go searching - or, will that be too difficult for you?' Medic asked, pitching his voice in a half sing-song, half pitying tone.

There was a surge of embarrassment and anger from the Frenchman. "I will find the others for you, alpha - if that is what you are asking of me."

"If you think you can handle it," Medic snorted. 

Spy flinched as he took the full brunt of Medic's disapproval through their bond. "Yes, alpha - at least this sort of hunting is something I am skilled at." After a pause he looked up again, moving only his eyes and keeping his head lowered. "Do you wish for me to acquire them for you, or shall I only obtain their locations?"

Ah, yes...that was actually a valid question; Medic pondered that a moment - it would certainly be easier if Spy brought the rest of the team to Medic, but then there was always the chance of someone managing to escape and raise the alarm...that would not do.

"...find them, but do not give any hint that you were there," Medic said finally. "I would much prefer to take them myself than trust that you could get them back to me with none taking notice."

Spy frowned; Medic had actually wounded his pride, ha!

"Go, now," Medic said with a dismissive wave of his hand when Spy remained silent. "Come back successful or do not come back at all."

"How will I find you?"

Another valid question. "...I have a home in the mountains, once I have dealt with Sniper I shall depart for there." While he ached to immediately set out to grow his pack the truth was he couldn't go when he had no destination in mind - Spy would need time to locate everyone and now that he thought about it such a delay would give Medic time to stockpile venom for another accelerated change. There might be an issue with visitors if they realized the "doctor" had returned, but what were a few more bodies...

Medic found a pen and paper and scribbled out an address and phone number; Spy read it over then burned in over the sink with a match before heading toward the door.

As he passed by Medic reached out and grabbed him by the arm, tugging him to a stop. "Move as quickly as possible, and as I have said...come back successful, or do not come back at all," he said softly, backing up the words with the surge of a mental command.

Spy nodded; Medic released him and Spy disappeared into the night, shutting the door quietly behind him.

For several minutes Medic stood in the doorway between kitchen and entry hall; a groan from Scout drew his attention back to the younger male - a quick examination of his throat injury showed it was closing up slowly but surely.

Medic nodded to himself and took Scout by the hand; he felt a faint rush of gratitude underlaid with shame at his failure. Gently running his fingers through the male's hair, Medic shushed him and used his other hand to secure the hand he held to the table near Scout's head.

There was a hint of confusion that echoed through their bond that turned to alarm when Medic secured Scout's other arm soon after.

Scout's words were a bit slurred through his busted lip. "M-medic? Alpha? What're you-"

"Hush," Medic replied, moving to pin Scout's legs to the table and secure them as well.

The alarm flowing through the bond increased and Scout struggled to raise his head to stare wide-eyed at the German. "Alpha, I'm s-sorry, he-"

"Yes, so you have told me," Medic interrupted, tone flat.

Ignoring Scout's stammering through his story of Sniper's attack once again Medic ambled over to the cabinets and opened each drawer until he found the one full of cutlery; inside one drawer he found a serviceable paring knife and turned around and Scout's alarm turned to sheer panic and he began to pull at the webbing holding him down - it was far enough below the boy's wrists that the web-dissolving fluid could not reach it unless he flooded the table with it, and Medic was reasonably sure Scout couldn't produce that much of it that quickly for it to be a problem.

"Alpha, what are you doing?! I'm sorry! I'm sorry and he won't get away again I promise!"

"He left you as bait, Scout," Medic said quietly, slowly smiling down at him as he ran the tip of the paring knife teasingly along the Bostonian's collarbone. "I am only responding in kind...and truth be told, I am curious about any inner changes that may have occurred with your transformation. Consider it like this - this is both punishment for your failure as well as helping your alpha. I suggest swallowing sludge now to help control the pain, but make sure you make enough noise in the long run - predators are often drawn in by the sounds of sick or suffering creatures."


End file.
